The Skill of Seducing
by Moonlight Phoenix1
Summary: Draco swings both ways, is an acclaimed sexgod and boy does he know it. It is widely known that Harry Potter is straight and has a girlfriend of one year, Ginny Weasley. What happens when something that started off as a bet starts to get out of hand?SLASH
1. Start of the Year

**A/N: **Hello everyone! After a long five weeks of writing and re-writing the first two chapters of this (chapter three is almost done now), I am finally posting this up. It is a re-post, as I took this story down when I realised that the way I wrote it was – to be frank – crap, so I re-did it, added more twists and wrote a plot, and now I highly recommend everyone who read it when it was posted before (about a year ago – yes, I know that it's taken me ages to get to re-writing it), to re-read it, as I have made quite a few changes. I sincerely hope that this story fits to everyone's tastes! I'm not sure if the rating should be 'R', but I'm sticking with it just to be safe. This story will feature quite a few different pairings and also discusses casual sex, as well as SLASH playing a major part in the whole thing. So I hope you enjoy this little creation of mine, and I plead to your good sides to leave me a review on what you think about this story – all comments, praise, criticism and flames appreciated. If you review this story, I will send many cyber-hugs your way, as I am the world-renowned cyber-hug master (or at least I will be soon – fingers crossed), so please, for the happiness of your cyber-selves, read, enjoy, and review.

**Thank you** to Dora-the-elda, my good old buddy and BETA reader, who read through this chapter for me and pointed out my mistakes and gave me a few suggestions on how I could improve it. Thanks for that, Dora! I re-did that paragraph you told me about, and I also added a few more things. Hope you like the changes I made!

**Title:** The Skill of Seducing

**Author:** MoonlightPhoenix1

**Genre:** Drama/Romance

**Rating:** R

**Summary:** SLASH Draco swings both ways, is an acclaimed sex-god and boy does he know it. It is widely known that Harry Potter is straight and has a girlfriend of one year, Ginny Weasley. What happens when something that started off as a bet starts to get out of hand? RE-WORKED.

**Disclaimer:** The only thing I own is the plot. Any names of characters or places you recognise from the Harry Potter universe obviously belong to JK Rowling (and WarnerBros). I am merely borrowing them to play a part in my twisted – that is, _unique_ – story, thus satisfying my immense need for slashiness in the HP world, which, I am sure, many rabid fangirls/boys _also _want.

**Warnings:** Slash, bad language, slash, sex, slash, possible violence, slash, child abuse, slash, possibly self-mutilation, slash, het, oh, and did I mention the most important thing? SLASH.

**A Note about the story: **This fan fiction completely disregards Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. It did not happen. Forget everything you read in that book, and then read this story. Thank you.

* * *

_Sucker love is heaven sent  
You pucker up, our passion's spent  
My heart's a tart, your body's rent  
My body's broken, yours is spent  
Carve your name into my arm  
Instead of stressed I lie here charmed_  
'_Cause there's nothing else to do  
Every me and every you_

_- 'Every Me, Every You', Placebo_

_

* * *

_**The Skill of Seducing**

Chapter 1: Start of the Year

It was September the first, twenty minutes to eleven, and people were already piling into the Hogwarts Express. It looked as if some of them couldn't wait to get away from their parents, or annoying little brothers and sisters, and some of them couldn't bear the thought of being away from their loved ones for nine whole months.

Draco Malfoy snorted to himself. He, on the other hand, felt as though he was being released from Azkaban at the beginning of school. Of course his expression did not show this. If you saw him, you would think, 'Oh, that's another one who's bored out of his mind already, and school hasn't even started!'

The truth was, he was actually quite looking forward to the new school year. Not because he was Head Boy, God no. Being Head Boy was just a little perk – he would finally get his own room this year – but the real reason he was looking forward to going back to school was because there were plenty more people to screw with. And plenty more (unsuspecting) people to screw. Not to mention all the girls (and guys) who were already on the waiting list to sleep with him. Yes, Draco Malfoy was that kind of boy. Well, man. It _was_ going to be his last year at Hogwarts, after all.

He was the kind of guy who everyone wanted. No matter their position in school, age or gender, people were always practically queuing up to have a go with him. And it wasn't surprising either. He was, after all, completely gorgeous. He was the kind of guy that made the whole class go quiet when he walked in. The kind of guy who would make everyone he passed have saliva spouting down their chins in less than a second. The kind of guy who was like a walking wet dream.

The kind of guy who didn't care about anything, or anyone, but himself.

After he had his fun with his partner for the night, be it man or woman, student or professor, he would drop them like a hot potato the next day. Publicly.

Well, in most cases.

Although he did sleep around quite a bit, the one thing he hated being called was a slut. If anybody called him a slut or a whore, or something along those lines, they would find themselves in the Infirmary for about a week. He wasn't some cheap hooker who would sleep with anyone, hell no. He was Draco Malfoy. He had requirements, obviously. Rule number one was, the person had to be good-looking. Rule number two was, they had to be in third year or higher. He would never fuck a first or second year. Ever. Even if they looked really fine and wanted him, despite being quite young, he'd say no. Anyway, rule number three was … well … that was it, really.

Many of Draco's escapades and whatnot had started being well known after the summer after fifth year. He had come back to Hogwarts no longer the scrawny boy with the pointy face he had been during the earlier years, but a man. He had a body to die for from all his Quidditch training ('Daddy must have got him working'), and his hair was no longer the shiny, polished thing it had been before, as he had let it loose, and strands of hair hung into his eyes, which he would often brush away with his hand, which some kids, particularly that Weasley girl (Gina, was it?), found to be simply adorable.

But that was at the beginning of sixth year. By the time he had reached the middle of it, he was no longer called by anyone 'adorable'. He was more 'sex-on-legs'. Oh yes, and Crabbe and Goyle no longer followed him around. He had dismissed them on claims that they 'cramped his style', and that he preferred to ooze sexiness without the two boulder-resembling bodyguards beside him.

They had accepted this with a grunt and had then ambled off to eat their dinner. So no big loss for them.

But back to what Draco Malfoy looked like. The most striking thing about him was his eyes. His eyes weren't just pavement-grey like some people's, but were more silver. Swirling mists of silvery grey-blue that hid all of his emotions. Year after year they just became colder and colder. After all, the first thing his father taught him was: emotions are a sign of weakness.

And he had always believed it. Hell, he still did. Anyway, it wasn't just some pansy opinion or belief, it was the truth. To Draco, anyway.

"Now, Draco, I must remind you to be on your, uh, best behaviour this year," Lucius Malfoy told his son in a somewhat oily voice, even for him. "I don't want to receive any owls about any … mischief," the man sneered slightly, "or else ..." he gave a dry chuckle. "Well. You know what will happen."

"Yes father," Draco agreed, struggling to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

Oh he knew what would happen, alright. His back still hadn't recovered from the last time his father had received an owl informing him about how he got an Acceptable in Potions.

Yes, 'being beaten by a filthy little Mudblood at the only subject you're good at' was incredibly shaming, not to mention insolent, disgraceful, indignant, and many other things of a Malfoy, according to his father. Draco got buried neck-deep in shit if that little bitch got a higher mark than him in Potions. They usually got the same, but on the occasions that she got a higher mark than him, as had happened before … well.

Let's just say that Lucius was _not_ happy with his son.

Other times that Lucius had not been happy with his son included one of the most famous – and most humiliating (for Slytherin, that is) – Quidditch matches in the whole history of the school.

It had happened during sixth year, on a fine, breezy day. It was Gryffindor versus Slytherin, the final game of the year, and Lucius Malfoy had picked that day to see how well his son flew. Unfortunately for Draco, the night before he had had a (rather rowdy) ménage a trois with a Slytherin seventh year, a Ravenclaw fifth year, and plenty of booze. He had been too spent and too hung-over to fly properly, and throughout the match he kept accidentally bashing into Chasers from his team, and getting in the way of the Quaffle. He couldn't even really be that bothered to look for the snitch, not when Potter had been zooming about enough for the both of them. Near the end of the game, the score was 20-190 to Gryffindor, who found it hilarious to see Malfoy in such a state so bad that he actually _prevented_ his team from scoring as many times as they wanted to. There was suddenly a loud roar, and people from Draco's team had seemed to be yelling directions at him. But his vision was hazy, and he had a pounding headache, so he didn't realise that the Snitch had been hovering right in front of his face for about five minutes.

Needless to say, Harry Potter caught the Snitch (managing to call to Draco, "Here's a tip, Malfoy: lay off the booze once in a while!" – one of the rare times that he actually _spoke_ in sixth year), and Gryffindor won the match, 340-20. The Slytherin team had _not_ been happy with Draco. And, unfortunately for him, it was only _after_ they had lost that he realised that his father – the person that he wanted to make proud the most – had seen him flying at his worst, and generally making a fool of himself.

Lucius didn't say anything to him then (he had just glowered angrily in that superior way of his), but at home down in the dungeons during the summer … that was another thing entirely.

Draco winced at the memories that kept creeping into his brain at the worst possible moment, and unconsciously rubbed his right wrist.

Lucius had been so disappointed (and humiliated and disgraced, etc, etc), that he had actually yelled that his son better make a damn good Death Eater after his graduation. Draco nearly laughed out loud at the thought. Me? Worship You-Know-Who? Pfft. What makes my dear old father think that I will go kissing the Dark Lord's arse after I leave Hogwarts? Oh God, bad, BAD mental images! Draco nearly cringed at what he had just thought. Nearly. After all, Malfoys didn't show any other facial expressions apart from the famous sneer, and the occasional trademark raised eyebrow.

Of course, right after he thought that he started cursing himself (internally, of course) as he remembered he wasn't supposed to be having thoughts that 'in any way showed disloyalty to the Dark Lord' while he was around his father, when he heard Lucius Disapparate behind him without another word.

How rude, Draco thought mockingly. He wouldn't even stay until eleven o'clock when his only son would go off to his last year at Hogwarts. How typical, Draco sneered to himself. It was actually a rather big surprise that Lucius had taken Draco to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters by himself, and hadn't just had a chauffeur take Draco, which was usually the way that Draco got to the platform.

It was fourteen minutes to eleven. His eyes quickly scanned the platform to look for anyone who was in his year. His eyes landed on some messy black hair a few feet away from him, as he looked down … a decent build but a not-so-great fashion sense, as he looked up ... bright green eyes, as he looked down again ... a nice, round arse, and as he looked up again … a lightning bolt shaped scar?

Wait a second! Did I just check out POTTER? Draco's mind thundered. The glasses were gone, he noted. Apparently, Harry had started wearing those muggle things, what're they called? Conpacts, or some nonsense like that, he thought.

Wait ANOTHER second! Did I just call him HARRY? Must be all the potion fumes at the manor going to my head. _Or_ my witty mind finding a challenge for me ... yes ... Draco thought as his eyes skimmed Harry up and down. Harry was one of the few people who had 'resisted' Draco's charms. Not that Draco ever tried to get Potter to jump into bed with him, mind you. That would most likely tarnish his reputation. Or on second thought, boost it. Draco had never given shagging Potter much thought before, but now … hmmm ...

Harry had grown up a bit. After being one of the smallest boys for his age, he had finally got his growth spurt. Now, he looked about 5 ft 10", Draco decided. Still not as tall as me, though, he prided himself, remembering his proud 6 ft 1" state.

Nor the Weasel, he thought disdainfully, watching Ron join Harry and clasp a hand over his shoulder. Ron's hair was still as red as always, and he was about 6 ft 3". His little sister was there next to him.

Gina, was it, looked quite good. She was no longer little. In fact, she had developed some curves on her body, and Draco silently laughed to himself as Weasley yelled at a poor pair of fifth year Hufflepuff boys to stop 'undressing his baby sister with their eyes'. Draco might have had a go with her if she wasn't so poor. Plus, she was going out with Potter, anyway. His case was rested (a muggle saying he had heard somewhere) when Gina gave Potter a long kiss on the lips.

Potter pulled away, looking a bit embarrassed.

Aww … how sweet, Draco thought, sneering slightly. Golden Boy gets embarrassed when The Weaselette kisses him.

He couldn't really understand why, though. The two had been going out since the beginning of sixth year, and they were Hogwarts' 'It' couple, as American-sounding as that was. Perhaps he was just shy. Yeah, that was it, Draco decided. Shy and timid Boy Wonder, the boy who got all the attention in the world, oh how ironic.

And when he realised what he was thinking, he frowned at himself for having the least bit of interest in what Potter's personality was like (and yes, assuming that Potter was shy was regarded as Draco having interest to his personality, which just wasn't acceptable) – the boy had a good body, and one hell of a fine-looking arse, and that was all Draco cared about.

The blonde regarded the Weasley girl with mild interest as she began firing – what seemed to be – random questions at Potter. Draco couldn't lip-read that well, but he guessed it was probably about something like how well the muggles treated him in the summer, and if they had actually rolled out a red carpet for him this year.

Throughout her speaking (which Draco couldn't hear), he noticed how her eyes kept darting in between each and every guy – no matter how young or old – that passed her and Potter.

Draco felt a frown tugging at his face. Weasel-Bitch was such a slut. Checking out guys right in front of her boyfriend and her brother, her boyfriend's best friend.

Well, Potter and Weasley _did_ have a reputation for being completely oblivious to everything going on around them, so it was no wonder they didn't notice how much of a whore the Weaselette was.

The blonde's gaze settled on Harry, who was looking slightly broody, again.

This year was definitely gonna be interesting ...


	2. The Bet

**A/N: **Weeeell heeeeeeere's the long-awaited second chapter of The Skill of Seducing! I hope you all enjoy, it was fun writing it. Only, kind of annoying to read through it about twenty-six times, but alas, such is life. Oh yeah, PINCH, PUNCH, FIRST OF THE MONTH! AND NO RETURNS! Hahahahaha, got you all! Ahem. Anyhow, how was everyone's Halloween? Did anyone actually go trick-or-treating? I've never been :::cries and mopes::: because my mummy never let me. But yeah, anyhow, yesterday I went out with my boyfriend and we watched 'Exorcist: The Beginning'. It was OK, only it was kind of archaeological, which annoyed me a bit, lol. But yeah. Bugger, I have school tomorrow! After two whole weeks of not having school! (I go to a weird school so that's why we have 2 weeks half-term). I'm all of a flutter :::cough:::! Well, anyway, I shall end my ramblings here and say: hope you enjoy this chappy!

**Thank you** to Dora-the-elda, for BETA-ing Chapter 2 and not finding anything wrong with it (which I believe is quite odd, really, but thanks anyway), Shiseidox, NayNymic, bri, kvun, swtdreams07, Arrowen, Alora, M69 (I agree, the song totally rocks!), sensesfailrocker (thanks for the cake! Yum yum :::rubs tummy:::), hokuspokus and sammy, for reviewing! Thank you so much, I really appreciate all your comments!

**Title:** The Skill of Seducing

**Author:** MoonlightPhoenix1

**Genre:** Drama/Romance

**Rating:** R

**Summary:** SLASH. Draco swings both ways, is an acclaimed sex-god and boy does he know it. It is widely known that Harry Potter is straight and has a girlfriend of one year, Ginny Weasley. What happens when something that started off as a bet starts to get out of hand? RE-WORKED.

**Disclaimer: **For all future disclaimers see first chapter.

**Warnings:** For all future warnings see first chapter.

* * *

_I'm searching for something__  
Beyond my understanding__  
Looking for meaning__  
Where nothing is demanding__  
There are no surprises__  
Where nothing is expected__  
If you offer nothing__  
Then everyone accepts_

_- 'Radio', Robbie Williams_

* * *

**The Skill of Seducing**

Chapter 2: The Bet

"Harry!" Harry heard a familiar voice call him name.

"Hey Ron!" Harry greeted his best friend, giving him what is usually classified as a 'manly' hug.

Ron hadn't changed much. He had just grown a bit taller over the summer holidays. Is he _always_ gonna be taller than me? Harry thought. And is it just me, or is his hair redder? And why does he have that goofy grin on his face?

"How's your summer been, mate?" Ron asked cheerfully.

"Eh ... alright. Better than usual, in a way. How was yours?" Harry asked.

"Well, you know ... cool," Ron said, grinning like an idiot.

"What's with you? Did Hermione ask you to marry her or something?" Harry joked.

Ron and Hermione had been dating ever since Christmas-time, sixth year. It was – to everyone's surprise – _Hermione_ who had made the first move, and had kissed Ron when the two of them were standing under some mistletoe. The day after that Ron had asked her out, and the two had been dating ever since. Hermione was 'very fond of Ron', Ginny would often say, and Ron constantly rambled about how beautiful Hermione looked and how he'd like to beat up all the guys who even looked at her wrong, to Harry.

Disregarding all this, they hadn't yet said 'I love you' to each other, and _definitely_ weren't thinking about marriage. Well, Ron wasn't, at least.

Which explained why his eyes widened a considerable amount.

"Uhh ... what? She's ... she's not going to, i-i-is she?" Ron sounded absolutely terrified.

"No, Ron, chill. I was just wondering why you looked so happy. And obviously I can rule Hermione asking you to marry her out."

"Good grief, mate, I thought that you were hinting at something! You got me scared for a moment there."

"Ron, I did not just scare you. I almost gave you a bloody heart attack," Harry grinned, for about the first time in weeks.

"Yeah, that too," Ron grinned back. "Anyways, it really sucked that you couldn't come over this summer, cos you could have celebrated with us! The thing is, Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes, you know, Fred and George's shop, got a MASSIVE income in the summer holidays, cos, you know, Angelina and them lot had told all their friends about it, and now, not only are they Zonko's enemy in the world of sweets, sugary snacks and, um ... other things, but anyway, they've bought this wicked muggle flat just on the outside of Hogsmeade, and they've asked if I wanted to move in there after Hogwarts? Can you believe it? _Me _in a _flat_!" Ron exclaimed somewhat dreamily.

Harry tried to force a grin.

"That's great Ron," he said, although his voice was kind of strained. "So, is that what you're going to do after Hogwarts? Maybe invite Hermione to live with you so you two'll be all alone ..." here, Harry waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Ron turned red and smacked Harry on the arm. He didn't notice Harry wince slightly.

The truth was that Harry had absolutely no idea what he was going to do after Hogwarts. He supposed he _could_ try out for seeker for the Montrose Magpies or Puddlemere United ... or he could become an Auror ... supposing he lived through Hogwarts, that is.

Yes, Voldemort was still on the loose, now stronger than ever. During Harry's sixth year he had (once again) tried to kill Harry, and had (once again) failed.

Talking of killing, Harry had come very close to killing Bellatrix Lestrange when she mentioned Sirius that year.

Sirius Black ... his parents' best friend ... his godfather ... the only father figure he had in his life ... _gone_ ...

As queer and girly as it sounded, it still hurt Harry to think of him now.

Harry had spent the second half of his summer away from the Dursleys (who were more than happy to see him leave – for good, since now he was seventeen and could take care of himself. In fact, they were so happy that they gave him a five pound note, not that it would be of any use to him in the wizarding world, but it was the thought that counted) in the summer house of Arabella Figg, his old neighbour and squib.

Harry had gone through training – both magical and physical – to be prepared to fight the Dark Lord. Dumbledore was convinced that he was ready, seeing as in sixth year, Harry had somewhat toughened up, although he had also become slightly more solitary – he hadn't really had much of a social life, since the only people he really properly talked too were Ron, Hermione, and Luna, occasionally.

The reason that he had been so subdued and hardly talked to anyone was because he had come to find over his years at Hogwarts, that the people he cared for always got hurt. In sixth year, he had tried to keep Ron and Hermione at arm's length, but that didn't really work, and they had stuck by him as if attached to him with superglue.

Neville also continued to talk to Harry, whereas Dean and Seamus realised that Harry wanted to be left alone, and gave him space. So, basically, the people Harry that willingly talked to properly were Ron, Hermione, Luna and Neville.

"Harry! Hi!" he suddenly heard a feminine voice cry at his left.

Oh, and Ginny, of course, as she was, obviously, his girlfriend.

Come to think of it, he also talked to the teachers and Professor Dumbledore, but they were quite different to his friends. Plus, if he actually had a choice, he would choose not to talk to the teachers at all. But that was last year, and he had suffered from major depression and guilt over Sirius' death. But hey. He only had one life, so he may as well get on with it.

He turned around and smiled at Ginny, in what he hoped was a cheerful way. Despite his resolution to be happier during his last year of Hogwarts, thinking about Sirius just made him so depressed.

Ginny was wearing tight jeans, a tight pink top, and a _lot_ of eye shadow.

"Hey Gin'!" Harry smiled at her, hoping that his smile wasn't too strained.

She wrapped her arms around the back of his head, and pulled him towards her for a long kiss.

When she was done sucking his face off (which Harry found really embarrassing in public, not to mention the fact that he _really_ didn't feel like swapping spit with someone while thinking about his deceased godfather), he pulled away, blushing fiercely and trying not to scowl, while Ron laughed.

"Gin' ... you know I don't like when you do that in public ..." he muttered, trying not to sound as embarrassed (and irritated) as he was.

Ginny gave him a bright smile.

"Sorry Harry, but I haven't seen you in a month, so ..." she trailed off, blushing a bit, but still smiling.

Harry tried to give her a smile back, but it came out as more of a grimace.

Ginny's smile faded slightly.

"Are you alright, Harry? Is anything wrong? Did the Dursleys do something? Or was it your scar? Did it hurt again, Harry?" she asked, looking concerned. Well, to be completely honest, she looked like she was _feigning_ concern, which most people might have realised, but Harry being Harry, and Harry being oblivious to almost everything, didn't realise this and felt that she was actually concerned for him.

"No," he struggled not to sound too irritated, "I'm fine. Don't worry."

Seeing his girlfriend's dubious look, he added, "_Really,_" inwardly thinking 'Just leave me alone for once, you cow'.

Of course right after he'd thought that, he felt immensely guilty. It wasn't Ginny's fault that she cared about him too much. It wasn't her fault that she was a little overbearing. It wasn't her fault that he was tired of everyone asking him if he was all right every single waking moment of his life. It wasn't her fault that he was the Boy Who Lived. It wasn't her fault that Sirius had died.

It was his.

"Harry?" Ron's voice jostled Harry out of his thoughts.

"Yeah?" Harry replied, trying not to sound depressed.

"Why is Ferret-boy staring at you?"

"Huh?" Harry said, blinking. He started to skim the crowds with his eyes. He eventually caught sight of that annoying, repulsive (yet good-looking – for a guy, that is), fair-haired sex bom-ehm, maniac, staring at him.

Harry cursed himself for even _starting_ to think of Malfoy as a 'sex bomb', even though he obviously was (he had slept with almost all of Hogwarts, as far as Harry knew). But it wasn't as though Malfoy's ego needed anymore inflating anyway, so Harry would have to keep his thoughts to himself, as he usually did.

Coming to think of it (yet again), Malfoy was one of the few people he had talked to last year as well. Well, not exactly 'talked' so much as 'insulted', but you know what I mean. Try as he may, Harry just couldn't ignore Malfoy. The blonde seemed to get under his skin in ways that no one else could.

Harry felt a blush creeping up on his skin as Malfoy continued to stare at him.

---

Draco smirked to himself. Harry Potter was blushing because he, Draco Malfoy, resident sex-god of Hogwarts, was staring at him.

Well, come to think of it, _anyone_ would blush if they were being so blatantly checked out as Harry was being by Draco. And by the looks of it, Weasley was too thick to notice that Draco was actually checking out Harry, _not_ simply staring at him because he had nothing to do.

Draco knew this from the fact that Ron hadn't started to yell obscenities at him about making Harry feel uncomfortable yet.

"Draco, hey," said a deep voice behind him.

Draco turned around and was greeted by the sight of an Italian-looking male teen with tanned skin, long black hair tied into a low ponytail, and very dark brown eyes.

"Blaise Zabini," Draco drawled, "how wonderful to see you."

The closest person to a friend Draco had ever had in his life.

The one he constantly bragged about all his conquests to (not counting the rest of the school).

Also, the one who was jealous about all the action Draco got.

And the one who would do almost anything to show Draco up in front of the entire school.

"How was your summer?" Blaise asked, not that he really cared – all he cared about was making the bet.

It was their last year at Hogwarts, and he was determined to humiliate Draco in front of the whole school. Sure, he was his 'best friend' ... but hey! Draco _always_ got the attention ... and he sure as hell would this time. Only it would be the bad kind of attention – and it would make Draco feel completely _humiliated_. Something that Draco Malfoy didn't feel enough.

Assuming that he felt anything at all, of course.

Draco shrugged.

"Not bad. Same as always, in fact," he said, inwardly cringing. Well, it wasn't _that _bad – it was just probably the most painful experience of his life, nothing more. He firmly put all thoughts of shackles and canes to the back of his mind and drawled, "What about yours?"

"That's nice," Blaise said absentmindedly, eyebrows slightly furrowed, obviously thinking about something else.

"I said: what about yours?" Draco repeated his question.

"Yeah, I know," Blaise said distractedly, nodding his head, with his brows still slightly furrowed.

Draco rolled his eyes. Count on Blaise to miss completely everything he was saying when he got a 'good' idea. Yes, ladies and gents, Blaise Zabini _did_ get ideas.

"Hey Blaise, Potter's just proclaimed his undying love for Goyle," Draco said flatly.

"Yeah, great," Blaise said, as though this was a daily occurrence – even though Potter was the straightest person in the whole school, possibly even the whole world.

"Hey Blaise, Dumbledore's just announced that Crabbe will be the new Headmaster of Hogwarts," Draco said in the same flat voice.

"That's cool, that's cool," Blaise said, as though he thought that Crabbe actually had more than three brain cells and the ability to do something other than stuff his gob with food and flex his muscles threateningly at anyone who questioned his ability to read/write/talk using polysyllabic words, or just generally anyone at all.

"Hey, Blaise, Lockhart's come back to teach at Hogwarts and he's started stripping just over there," Draco said flatly, again.

This seemed to get Blaise's attention, judging from the fact that his eyes widened in horror and he started looking as if he would puke from the terrible mental images going on in his perverted mind.

"Well, at least _that_ got your attention. And I also found out that you have an undying urge to see Lockhart naked," Draco said sarcastically.

Blaise gave him a look of absolute disgust.

"No way! God, don't make me retch, Draco!" he said, cringing. "Well, anyway, _swiftly_ leaving that subject ..."

Draco smirked.

"I ... would like ... to make a bet," Blaise said, smiling, as though proud of himself for looking up the meaning of 'bet' in the dictionary. Not that he didn't know what it meant already, just that he started to see it in a new light after getting this infamous 'idea' that we all have yet to know about.

"A bet? What kind of bet?" Draco asked in a bored tone of voice. He supposed that he'd accept whatever it was. After all, it _would_ be fun (bets always were), as long as it was something big ... something that he would always be remembered in Hogwarts for. It _was_ the guy's last year, after all.

"We have to shake on it first. Then you _have_ to do it. It's going to be quite a difficult task. And challenging. And tricky." Blaise said, trying to make the bet sound enticing to the blonde.

"You do know that difficult and challenging and tricky all mean the same thing, don't you?" Draco drawled.

Blaise chose to ignore his friend and carry on talking.

"A challenging, difficult, tricky task," he continued. "Are you sure you're up for it?" he asked, knowing very well that Draco would be up for it. After all, he was a Malfoy: Malfoys don't back down.

"Alright," Draco said, shrugging.

The two Slytherins shook on it.

"So ... what exactly _is_ this little bet of yours?" Draco asked.

"Well ..." Blaise was grinning like crazy now. "I bet that you can't date Harry Potter, make him believe you love him," at this, Draco's eyes widened the tiniest fraction, "get him to sleep with you on the thirteenth of February, then ... dump him the next day. February fourteenth. You know, Valentine's Day. Inform the school of what a crap lay he was, or whatever. That bit's up to you. Basically, completely humiliate him in front of the entire school. That is the bet." Blaise finished.

Draco opened his mouth to say something, but Blaise interrupted.

"Oh, and you have to make sure that he doesn't sleep with anyone else _at all_ this year. That includes the Weaselette. Also, you have to be completely faithful to him while you're dating. _If _you actually succeed in that, that is," Blaise said, positively beaming now.

"What the hell kind of bet is this? I have to be _faithful_? I have to keep _tabs_ on him? Dammit Blaise, what about my reputation? Pining for the fucking Boy Who Wouldn't Die? I'll be the laughing stock of Slytherin. No, no, the entire _school_!" Draco hissed.

Blaise simply grinned. Draco could tell that that had been his plan.

"So, what ... you gonna back out? Too chicken?" the Italian boy taunted.

"No way. I've been called a lot of things throughout my life, but never a coward, Blaise. And I don't plan on getting called that now. Of course I won't back out. What happens if I succeed?" Draco asked.

"Well, you get to take pride in the fact that you took Potter's virginity and-" Blaise started.

"Wait, wait. Potter's a _virgin_?" Draco interrupted, his expression clearly saying 'this is too good to be true'.

"Yeah," Blaise said. "Heard him talking to Weasley about it last year," he said, shaking his head. "What a little frigid."

"Come on, Blaise, he could've fucked the Weaselette over the holidays, couldn't he? I mean, they've been going out for about a year, it'd have been about bloody time too!" Draco drawled.

"Nope. Haven't you been reading the Daily Prophet?"

"I don't read that shit."

"It's not shit, my mother writes some stuff for that!" Blaise said defensively. Draco raised an eyebrow, and Blaise blushed slightly. "Well, she does."

"Uh-huh. So what about the Daily Prophet?"

"Well, they've been saying that Potter's been kept in some secret place or something, and he's not been allowed to see _any_ of his friends this summer, so, you know, him shagging little Miss Weasley would kinda defy the rule of being in two places at the same time."

"Two words, Blaise: Time Turner."

"Yeah, well, I doubt that Potter even knows what that is."

"Do _you_?"

"'Course, Draco, I ain't no idiot."

Draco just looked at his friend with raised eyebrows.

"Anyway, getting back to the bet. Basically, if you succeed, you get to rub it in Potter's face that you took away his virginity and humiliate him in front of then whole school, like he does you every time he beats you at Quidditch. 'Specially last year, you remember that, Draco? You were too spent to even _fly_ properly. You kept getting in the way of all the Chasers. Damn, I mean, Slytherin lost, like, 20-340 because of you," Blaise said, chuckling slightly.

Draco's gaze suddenly darkened and a storm seemed to be rising behind his cold silver eyes.

"You ever mention that in my presence again, and I'll have no hesitation in practising some of the Unforgivable Curses I learned during the summer on your sorry arse." The boy's voice was quiet and deadly.

Blaise gulped, knowing that Draco was being serious.

"Err, about the bet, as I was saying, you could humiliate Potter in front of the whole school, or," Blaise continued quickly, hastily, "even better, you could sell your story to the Daily Prophet and humiliate him in front of the entire wizarding world. I can see it now ... it'll make the headlines ... 'The Boy Who Was De-Flowered By A Guy' or 'The Boy Who Takes It Up The Arse' or 'The Boy Who Swings The Other Way' or-"

"Yeah, yeah, Blaise, I get the drift. Crap titles, by the way." Draco's gaze wasn't so dark now and he had stopped sounding so dangerous.

"Well, I'm not saying that you'll actually get that far ... I doubt that you'll even get him to believe that you love him. Oh yeah, and, did I forget to mention that he had to actually tell you that he loves you? In front of people? As in, you both have to come out as being a couple and you have to somehow get him to tell you he loves you in front of people so that everyone thinks your relationship is 'serious'?"

Draco was looking really irritated now.

"Blaise ... if you add one more thing I have to do to that list you already have, I am going to wring your scrawny little neck right here, right now!" he hissed.

The grin left Blaise's face slightly.

"Alright, alright, no need to get personal!" he said. "OK, and if you don't succeed-"

"I will."

"If you don't succeed, you have to tell the whole school that you're really a virgin and you're 'just waiting for the right person to make love to', and-"

Draco snorted.

"Blaise, where have you been living these past four years? In a cave? No one's gonna believe that bullshit. I've practically slept with half the bloody school – and that's _not_ including the teaching assistants!"

"You didn't let me finish. You'll _make_ everyone else believe it by making a memory potion and giving it to every single person you've ever slept with-"

"I've slept with you, Blaise," Draco said dryly.

"Oh yeah ... well, everyone apart from me-"

"And you just so happen to be the shittiest lay I ever had, and you get to remember it, oh joy."

"Even shittier than that third year Hufflepuff?"

"Even shittier than that third year Hufflepuff."

"Really?"

"Yep. At least she knew how to make me _come_."

"Shut up, Draco."

"Plus, how the fuck am I supposed remember every single person I've ever fucked? I mean, it's not like I keep a little black notebook in which I list all the people I've ever screwed, unlike _some _people."

Blaise flushed.

"And even if I did, I can confidently say that my list would be longer than _one tiny page._"

Blaise flushed even more.

"Shut up, Draco."

"You're getting repetitive, Zabini."

"Fuck you."

"Oooh, original. But seriously, how am I supposed to remember everyone I've ever slept with?"

"You'll find a way. I dunno. We'll work on it. Anyway, you only have to wipe off the sleeping with you bit from their memories, not your so-called, 'reputation'," Blaise was really picking up speed now, grinning from ear to ear and his eyes shining slightly, "which everyone will find out to be 'fake', and _then_ you have to tell them all that you worship _me_, and that all the sexcapades you told the school you learned from me."

Draco gave him a withering look that made Blaise feel embarrassed.

"So, basically, you planned this whole bet in the hope that I'd fail, and you'd get, what, attention?" Draco asked in an unimpressed tone.

"I-I-I-" Blaise stuttered.

"Right. Whatever. So what else do I get? Apart from getting the knowledge that I 'de-flowered' Precious Potter, I mean?" Draco asked his companion.

"Umm ..." Blaise said. He hadn't seemed to have planned that far ahead. He probably thought that the notion of 'de-flowering' Potter would be enough to entice Draco into this bet.

"Yes?"

"Err ..."

"_Yes_ ...?"

"Uhh ..."

"Godammit Blaise, you're supposed to be a smart, quick-witted Slytherin. So start acting like one!" Draco snapped, beginning to lose his patience.

"You also get the Book of Post Mortem!" Blaise quickly said.

"The book of Post Mortem?" Draco said in a disapproving tone, one eyebrow raised.

"Um, yeah."

"And that would be ...?"

"It's one of the Darkest books in Europe."

Draco rolled his eyes. The Zabinis had about as much to do with all things Dark as many times as Salazar Slytherin planted daisies in the ground with Godric Gryffindor skipping merrily about by his side and plaiting Salazar's hair.

"No, really!" Blaise exclaimed. He dropped his voice down to a harsh whisper. "Dad found it locked in our attic a few summers ago. I only found out what it was this summer. Apparently it's one of the Darkest things to ever have come into existence in the whole of Europe, so Dad has no idea how it ended up in our attic. It's got a whole bunch of stuff about what happens after death, and how you can ... I dunno, bring someone back from the dead or something."

This last bit seemed to appeal to Draco.

"Bring someone back from the dead?" he asked.

"Bring someone back from the dead," Blaise repeated, nodding an affirmative.

"Hmm ..." Draco said, mulling things over in his head quickly. "I see. But that's impossible, though, isn't it?"

Blaise shrugged.

"The book says otherwise," he said. "Oh yeah, there's something else you have to do when – I'm sorry, I mean _if_ – you fail," Blaise said, slightly mockingly.

Draco raised an eyebrow.

"For the remainder of the school year, whenever you talk to me, or about me to other people, you have to refer to me as 'Master'," the Slytherin said, somewhat smugly.

Draco's expression didn't change, but Blaise thought the boy tensed a bit.

"So, Draco. Haven't changed your mind? Not backing out? Cos, you know, we've already got a deal. You gotta do all that stuff if you fail. Oh, and you can't just forfeit after two weeks and say 'It's too hard, Potter's never gonna sleep with me, I'm out'."

Draco rolled his eyes.

Blaise smirked.

"I'm looking forward to hearing you address me as 'Master' very much, Draco," he said slyly.

"Don't be so sure," Draco spat. "I'm a Malfoy, we don't bow down to _anyone_ and degrade ourselves by calling someone 'Master'," he said, although he was very much aware that that was what his father (stupid bastard) was doing to the Dark Lord.

Blaise was still smirking.

There was silence for a while, during which Blaise continued smirking, and Draco looked thoughtful.

"Blaise," Draco said sweetly (well, as sweet as Draco could get anyway), which was a disturbing fact on it's own, and Blaise was even more disturbed by the sly expression on Draco's face.

"Yeah?" Blaise asked, slightly worried.

"Considering the fact that you just added something to your ... requirements of what I must do if I fail, I think I should add something to what _you_ should do when – I'm sorry, I mean _if_ –" Draco said sarcastically, "I win."

"Um ... OK ..." Blaise said uncertainly, wondering what sort of evil plot Draco had up his sleeve.

"I'm going to be nice, here, Blaise, because I'm giving you a choice. It's _completely_ up to you. You can either ... date Pansy Parkinson for _one month_, stay _faithful_ to her, sleep with her at _least_ four times ..." Draco smirked at Blaise's horrified expression – everyone knew that Pansy was a slut who would go out with any Slytherin (or Ravenclaw) guy who had a bit of a money, and everyone _also_ knew that the girl was had a certain fixation with whips and strange-shaped objects that she could shove up one's anus – and paused, waiting for the words to sink in. "_Or_ ..." he said, smirking even more as Blaise looked hopeful, knowing that the boy would most likely choose _anything_ over dating Pansy, as would any male in their right mind, "you can get down on one knee and, perfectly seriously, ask Ron Weasley to marry you in front of the entire school in the Great Hall during dinner, and then, whenever you see him during the next week, in any classes you two might have together, during breakfast, at the library, whatever, you have to tell him how much you love him, that you'd do anything for him, and that you want to take him dry. For a week, Blaise, a week," Draco said, cutting off Blaise's protest. "That's gotta be better than dating Pansy for a month. Come on, do you _really_ want an aubergine shoved up your arse?"

Blaise's bottom lip seemed to quiver a bit, and he nodded, looking down at the ground.

"OK, Draco," he said, sounding a bit shaken up (he obviously thought that this was way below the belt), "if you win the bet – if, _if_, OK, IF – you win the bet, then I'll do the Weasley thing."

Draco smirked widely. This would be hilarious, and definitely something to look forward to.

"And remember. I share all your classes Blaise, so you won't be able to get out of it. You'll even have to tell Weasley you want to take him dry ... _in front of Snape_," Draco whispered tauntingly.

Blaise let out a strange sound that seemed to be a cross between a whimper and a sob, and said, "Draco, man ... don't you think you're being a bit harsh?"

"No." Draco wasn't smirking anymore. "Asking me to call you 'Master' for the rest of the year is much worse than what you're going to have to do, trust me." He shook his head, an unknown look in his eye. "You don't know what you're asking me to do," he whispered, almost to himself. His head snapped up suddenly, as if he just remembered that Blaise was there. "So, Blaise," the blonde said, somewhat cheerfully. "Let the games commence."

Blaise looked into the eyes of the blonde who seemed to want to do nothing more than humiliate him if he won the bet and glared.

"Yes," he growled, "let the games commence."

Draco smirked. He turned around, and his eyes met Potter's.

Oh well, better start this now. I have a long five and a half months ahead of me, he thought.

And smiled at Harry.


	3. Suspicion and Seduction

**A/N: **Hey y'all! Sorry it took a while to get this chapter out. I kept adding bits to it, and then having random blanks in the middle that I had to come back to later. Oh, and I had – _have_, even – school coursework, and homework, and tests to study for, etc. Goddammit, school sucks. But anyway, I'm not sure when the next chapter will be out. I've written about seven pages, but nothing much has happened in it, so, I'm not sure how long it's going to be. :worries:

The end of this chapter is a bit of a letdown, I'm afraid (not that the endings of the previous chapters were up to much, but still), so I won't be offended if anyone points that out. Oh, and that reminds me, everyone is welcome to criticise, and not just my BETA! Point out my typos, plot holes, and other mistakes, and I'll do my best to try to correct them. Thank you! Now read the thank-yous, read the story, enjoy it/don't enjoy it, and REVIEW and tell me about it (please)!

**Thank you** to Dora-the-elda (my lovely little BETA, who, although found the infamous type 'thrn' instead of 'then', failed to realise that I had written 'he put his carriage on the luggage rack' in the _same sentence,_ lol. But thanks anyway, Dora. And thanks for half the title (she thought up the bit 'suspicion) and your praise!), Ahja Reyn (weeeeellll, I don't wanna spoil anything for you … but no, not quite. Lol. But keep reading to find out what will happen! And glad you love it! Oh, and sorry I didn't update sooner :embarrassed blush:), yeGADS (glad you love it too!), nat25 (glad you love it also, and sorry I updated so late!), amy (glad you like it, and sorry it's taken me so long to post this!), Weasel Girl (glad you love it also!), Katatonia (lol thanks), Jen, Alora (oh, don't worry, Draco will _suffer_. Muchly. Muchly muchly. In fact, so muchly that you might feel bad about calling him a prick – although he _really_ is – but that won't come until much later! Keep reviewing!), NiaSphinx (glad you like it, and heeere's the update!), iNDiE-09 (does that mean … _I'm _brilliant? YIPPEE:does happy dance: Here's the third chapter for ya!), M69 (I'm not trying to give anything away, but … you're gonna need quite a few tissues, I'm afraid), HPDM-Slash-Rocks (yay!), Unwanted Red Roses, (yay!), Loving (two thumbs up? Thanks! And amazing? _Me?_ blush Thanks again! And yes, I do agree with you about the posting of the stories, and the first few chapters coming up one after the other until you're sick of the sight them, and then leaving the poor fic to rot until I come back to it three years later … I shall _try_ to follow your advice!), Ducky Junior (lol! Must make you feel good to know I updated a few weeks – well, alright, a month – after you reviewed!) and skimmie (thanks!) for reviewing. You don't know how happy your reviews make me! Seriously, guys! Keep 'em comin'!

**Title:** The Skill of Seducing

**Author:** MoonlightPhoenix1

**Genre:** Drama/Romance

**Rating:** R

**Summary:** SLASH. Draco swings both ways, is an acclaimed sex-god and boy does he know it. It is widely known that Harry Potter is straight and has a girlfriend of one year, Ginny Weasley. What happens when something that started off as a bet starts to get out of hand? RE-WORKED.

**Disclaimer: **For all future disclaimers see first chapter.

**

* * *

**_Sexy, everything about you's so  
Sexy, you don't even know what you got  
You really hit my spot, oh yeah, yeah  
And you're so innocent  
Please don't take this wrong 'cause it's a compliment  
I just wanna get with your flow  
You've gotta learn to let go_

_- 'Just a Little', Liberty X_

_

* * *

_**The Skill of Seducing**

Chapter 3: Suspicion and Seduction

Draco Malfoy was smiling at Harry Potter.

Draco Malfoy was actually _smiling_ at Harry Potter. Not sneering, not scowling, not smirking (for once in his life), but properly smiling.

And this freaked Harry out. Not because Malfoy had one of the most exquisite smiles he had ever seen, not because Malfoy never smiled and it looked so good on him, not because-

OK. Let's _rephrase_ that!

Why the hell was Malfoy bloody smiling at him?

Ron obviously hadn't noticed, since he was still chatting away about something-or-other and making sure that any guy who insulted Hermione and/or flirted with her would get a black eye, a busted lip, or something to that effect, Harry wasn't really listening.

Anyhow, Malfoy was smiling at him and it was ... rather unnerving, to say the least.

Oh Merlin. What was that? Malfoy just ... just _winked_ at him! No, no, it had to have been at someone standing behind him, that was all. Yeah, it definitely was at someone behind him. Harry let out a sigh of relief.

Of course, Harry being Harry, and Harry being rather dense- that is, oblivious, at times, didn't realise that there was no one standing behind him since he was standing right in front of the wall.

"Harry? You alright, mate?" Ron asked him.

"What? Oh, yeah, yeah, I'm good. It's just that Malfoy-" Harry broke off here. He wouldn't want Ron to think that he was giving Malfoy anymore attention than usual. Not that he was, or anything. Just so that Ron wouldn't think that. Ron had a tendency to jump to conclusions, that was all.

"Malfoy what?" Ron asked.

"Malfoy looks like a ferret," Harry said, not being able to think of anything else. Ron let out a bark of laughter, and Ginny giggled (rather fakely, Harry felt).

"You just noticed that Harry? Damn, you can be slow, mate!" Ron said, which was rather ironic considering the fact that it took five and a half years for the redhead to realise that Hermione was crazy about him.

Harry gave the his best friend a somewhat watery smile, inwardly thinking that Malfoy didn't resemble a ferret in any way, shape or form, but he didn't want to say anything in case Ron thought that Harry thought Malfoy was attractive.

Which he didn't. Of course he didn't think Malfoy was attractive. Especially not when he was smiling.

Talking of smiling, where was Hermione (who had been smiling non-stop since last Christmas when she had got together with Ron)?

Harry blinked as he swore he thought he saw Malfoy had just licked his lips at either him, Ron, Ginny, or any of the other people around them.

The Gryffindor shook his head.

Alright, alright, so Malfoy _smiled_ at him. It was just a _smile_. People tended to smile quite a lot. The only weird thing about Malfoy smiling at him was that he had never seen Malfoy smile before. And it did look quite nice on him ...

Come on, Harry! Harry's brain yelled. So the git finally learned how to smile. Wow. How exciting. It should go down in history. Now, about Hermione …

"Ron! Harry! Ginny!"

Talk of the devil.

Harry turned around and was almost tackled to the ground by the five foot five brain-box who had launched herself at him, hugging him for all she was worth.

"Harry! I haven't seen you once in the entire summer! How are you? How was everything? Did you do anything fun? I went to Italy for a few weeks and it was fantastic, we went to loads of museums, and I learned so many things I hadn't known before! And, wow, you've grown so much!" Hermione gibbered as Harry laughed and hugged her back.

Harry saw Ron over his shoulder and, he had to admit, the redhead looked a little miffed that his girlfriend hadn't jumped on him and smothered him with her huge bear hugs first.

"Summer was fine, thanks Hermione. No more Dursleys! That was the greatest thing about it, knowing that I never have to see the Dursleys again."

"I heard that Dumbledore took you to some place to train you. The Daily Prophet mentioned something like that. Is it true?"

"Yeah."

"Harry! Why didn't you tell me about it?" the girl squealed.

Harry shrugged (which was rather hard, as the two were still hugging each other).

"How did it go?"

Harry shrugged again and muttered, "It went OK."

Hermione finally pulled away and smiled at Harry.

Ron cleared his throat slightly.

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, turning around. She threw her arms around the tall boy's neck, bringing his face down to her level and planting a kiss on his lips. "How were your last few weeks of summer?" she asked softly.

Ron was smiling widely.

"They were alright. Bit boring without you, though."

Hermione grinned and kissed Ron again, this time longer than before.

While his best friends were kissing, Harry turned to his own girlfriend, who was looking slightly bored.

"Did Hermione come round to your house this summer?" Harry enquired politely.

Ginny nodded.

"Yeah. God, it was really tough getting Ron and her to part in the evenings. Hermione shared my room, because, obviously, Mum wouldn't let her and Ron sleep in the same room. You're lucky you weren't there, during those two weeks they were just snogging all over the place," Ginny wrinkled her nose. "It was quite nauseating. I mean, it was like, 'get a room'."

Harry nodded, trying to look like he understood what Ginny felt, but privately thought that she should be used to Hermione and Ron's frequent kissing episodes by now.

"So, Harry," Ginny said, smiling up at her boyfriend in a sultry way. "How _was_ your summer? I mean, really? Did Dumbledore really take you to some secret place to train you, 'cos he wouldn't tell us where you'd gone or what you were doing," while speaking, Ginny was stroking her hand up and down Harry's arm.

"Yeah, he did. Arabella Figg – the lady who used to look after me when the Dursleys went away on holiday – has a large house in the countryside, she used to holiday there with her family, and Dumbledore took me there for about six weeks of the summer," Harry paused, and Ginny nodded at him to go on, though her eyes were fixed on something behind him. "There were a few other members of the Order there, and, well, we practised a lot of things. Serious things. I mean, we practised curses, hexes, spells, even potions. Things that will give me the upper hand in the War." Harry paused again.

Ginny was nodding absentmindedly, and said, "Mmhmm," so Harry took that as a sign to go on.

"It took a lot of energy out of me, and I felt so goddamn tired when I went to bed each night. It was practically non-stop training, since I only got Sundays off." Harry sighed. "So that's what I did this summer," he said, sounding tired.

"Really? Go on," Ginny said, still nodding and still looking at something behind him.

"Ginny?" Harry said. His girlfriend carried on nodding, but didn't look at him. "Ginny?" Harry tried again.

"That's amazing, Harry," Ginny said distractedly.

"Ginny!" Harry said, somewhat loudly.

"What?" his girlfriend asked, finally looking at him. She looked rather annoyed.

Harry blinked, then shook his head.

"Never mind. It's nothing important," he said. He sighed inwardly. She hadn't been listening. It wasn't the first time, either. He supposed it was his own fault – he always kept his answers quite brief, and she had probably got bored of it and assumed that he never had anything to say.

"We should probably get on the train," Harry muttered.

"Yeah, we should," Ginny agreed. She looked at her brother and Hermione, who were still kissing, and poked Ron in the back with her long fake nail.

"Ow!" Ron exclaimed, turning around. "Dammit, Ginny, what was that for?" he asked, going a bit red.

Ginny rolled her eyes and waved a careless hand at the Hogwarts Express.

"Train," she said, and walked onto it, leaving her trunk behind.

"Hey, Ginny!" Harry yelled after her. "You forgot your-" Then he stopped. Maybe she wanted him to be a gentleman and carry her trunk inside for her?

Harry sighed in confusion. Women were so difficult. Why couldn't she just have said if she wanted him to do that?

Hermione was already boarding the train, with Ron right behind her.

With a bit of effort, Harry picked up Ginny's trunk (it was rather heavy), put it on his right shoulder, holding it with his right arm, and started walking across to the train, whilst dragging his own trunk behind him.

"Stupid bloody thing. What the hell does she have in there, anyway?" Harry grumbled as Ginny's trunk made him slightly unsteady on his feet.

"Need any help there?" a voice asked to Harry's left. Assuming that it was Ron (despite the fact that Ron had just got onto the train), Harry shook his head and said, "Nah, don't worry mate, I'm fine."

"'Mate'? Thinking of pet names for me already, are you Potter?" the voice was a smooth baritone that sounded slightly amused, and definitely did not belong to Ron.

Harry looked up and almost dropped Ginny's trunk in surprise.

It was Draco Malfoy, standing there and smirking, and looking at Harry without a trace of malice on his too-perfect-to-be-real face.

"Malfoy," Harry spat. What the hell was Malfoy doing here?

"Aw, you remember me. I'm touched," Draco drawled. "So, I ask again, need any help?" he repeated.

Harry blinked and almost dropped Ginny's trunk again. He had forgotten that Malfoy had said that before.

"I … I …" Harry said, not quite sure what to say, and settled for just standing there, staring up at Draco's face with his mouth slightly open, probably doing a most remarkable impression of a dead goldfish.

"'You … you …'" Draco prompted him.

Harry shook his head.

"What the hell? _The _Draco Malfoy is offering to help _me?_" he snarled.

Draco raised an eyebrow, looking thoroughly amused.

"Yes, Potter, '_the'_ Draco Malfoy is offering to help carry '_the_' Harry Potter's trunk, which, if you don't mind me saying so, looks as though it might break your back at any moment."

"Err … well … er … Harry said, inwardly cursing himself for sounding like such an idiot.

Draco smirked.

"Oh, _very_ eloquent, Potter."

Harry flushed.

"Come on, let me carry this one," Draco said, and took Ginny's trunk from where it was balancing on Harry's shoulder, held there by both his arm and his head.

Where Harry had been, he had to admit, slightly struggling with his girlfriend's trunk, Malfoy looked as though the trunk didn't weigh a thing. He turned around smoothly, holding Ginny's trunk with one arm, and his own trunk with the other and walked towards the train.

Harry was so shocked that he couldn't even say anything, let alone move. This was Malfoy, _Draco Malfoy,_ _helping_ him. Something was _seriously _wrong with this picture.

Suddenly, Draco turned around and drawled, "Are you coming, Potter, or are you going to spend all day standing there, catching flies in your mouth?"

Harry smacked his mouth shut (he hadn't even realised it had been hanging open), and followed Malfoy onto the train without a word.

Malfoy seemed to be leading the way, and Harry followed him, briefly wondering why the hell he was following his enemy without a word of complaint.

"Malfoy …" Harry started, and suddenly realised that he had no idea what to say.

Draco turned around and raised an eyebrow.

"Uh …" Harry said, just for the hell of saying _something_.

"Yes …?" Draco said expectantly.

"Why … why are you doing this?" Harry asked after a slight pause, frowning.

"Why am I doing what?" the blonde asked.

"_Helping_ me. What's your plan?" Harry said suspiciously.

"Plan?" Draco raised an elegant eyebrow. "Well, Potter, my plan is to carry your trunk to whatever compartment you're going to sit in so that you don't kill yourself or break your back, isn't it?"

"No, Malfoy, seriously. Why?" Harry asked.

Draco rolled his eyes.

"Do I _really_ need to have an ulterior motive for _everything_ I do?" he asked melodramatically.

"Yes," came Harry's deadpan answer.

Draco shook his head.

"Look Potter, the truth is, you looked like you were struggling with this trunk – and why do you have two, by the way? – so I thought, hey, why not give him a hand since he obviously can't cope on his own."

Potter looked as though he was deep in thought. Probably deciding if the 'sneaky Slytherin' is lying or not, Draco thought.

"It's not my trunk," the Boy Who Lived suddenly said.

Draco blinked.

"What?"

"It's not my trunk."

"Then who the fuck does it belong to?"

"Err …"

"Merlin, not Weasley!"

"Yes."

"Urgh, I can't believe I'm carrying a _Weasley's_ trunk!"

"Look Malfoy, I can deal with it on my own!" Harry snapped.

"I'm just teasing, Potter," Draco said. "Jeez, sensitive much?"

Without giving Harry a chance to reply, Draco turned back around and carried on walking down the train. Scowling, Harry followed him, inwardly grumbling.

Malfoy's hair was _really_ blonde, Harry thought randomly, for lack of having things to think about (and also because Malfoy's back was facing him, and there wasn't really much else to look at apart from his hair). It really was blonde. It was an incredibly fair blonde, too, not even properly blonde! It wasn't even a colour! Harry smirked to himself. Malfoy's hair didn't have a proper colour, ha! He then winced at how childish that was.

In silence, he carried on following Malfoy, staring at his back and the way the black cotton of the Slytherin's shirt stretched over his muscular arms, the muscles on his back, and how tight the blonde's jeans were around his-

Hold it! Harry blinked, and almost stopped walking in shock. There was no way … _no way _he was just _eyeing Malfoy's arse!_ And his back! _And_ his arms!

It's just because he's really muscular, Harry quickly assured himself. I wish that _my_ muscles were that defined, he thought jealously (despite the fact that, due to his training, there were the _very_ promising beginnings of a six-pack hidden underneath his jumper and shirt). Harry then started cursing himself (internally, of course, he didn't want Malfoy to think he was a nutter by talking out loud to himself) for being _jealous_ of Malfoy.

Draco, meanwhile, was smirking to himself as he walked along. Him and Potter weren't talking, but that hardly mattered – Potter was _totally_ checking him out – he could _feel_ those green eyes boring into his back. It was kinda sexy, actually, the way Potter's gaze made him feel.

Draco spun around suddenly, intending to catch Harry in the act. Sure enough, the Gryffindor's eyes had been glued to his arse, and now (due to the fact Draco had turned around), his crotch.

Harry immediately started blushing in a (pathetically) adorable way, and Draco, smirk widening, said sweetly, "Enjoying the view?"

"Err what are you talking about Malfoy? I'm not, I mean, I wasn't, it's, well, I mean, erm … you know, actually, Malfoy, I think I'll take the trunk now, yeah, and take it to my compartment, and, um, uh," Harry blabbered on, feeling embarrassed for a) being caught admiring Malfoy's ars-muscles, dammit, his _muscles_, and b) for sounding like an idiot in front of his nemesis.

While Harry was blabbering on, Draco's brain (against his will, thank you) kept bombarding him with ridiculous thoughts such as 'aww, that's so cute!' and 'Potter's so sweet! Wonder what he'll say if he's ever caught in the act?'.

"And, yeah, because I was admiring the wall, and, uh, uh, um," Harry carried on, cursing himself for not shutting up and instead rambling on like an unstoppable nutcase, when he suddenly saw a familiar shock of red hair. "Ron!" he yelled loudly, relieved at finding an excuse to stop making a fool of himself in front of Malfoy.

"Harry, I've been looking all over for you! Where did you fuck off to, eh?" Ron said, grinning as he walked up to Harry. His eyes narrowed as he saw Malfoy. Draco put Harry's (well, Ginny's, to be more specific) trunk down on the floor and crossed his arms, looking cocky.

"Weasley, what a pleasant surprise," Draco drawled.

"Malfoy," Ron said stiffly, in way of greeting.

"So, Weaselbee, have you been _up_ to anything interesting lately? Anything new going _down _with you?" the blonde said, smirking.

Harry looked from his best friend (whose cheeks were rather red, a sure sign that Ron was getting angry at Malfoy's odd way of speaking) to Malfoy, and back again in apprehensiveness. He didn't want a fight to start. Especially when Malfoy was being so … well … helpful. Even if he _did_ have an evil plot up his sleeve.

Harry was just about to say something when Ron beat him to it.

"C'mon Harry, let's get away from this idiot," he said with narrowed eyes.

"Uh … yeah, alright. Um … thanks," Harry said quickly, ducking his head and hoping that Malfoy wouldn't see him blushing slightly as he picked up Ginny's trunk.

Ron looked completely gob smacked, but Draco just smirked in a satisfied manner.

"It was a pleasure and a virtue, Potter," he said, and gave a little aristocratic bow. He then looked Harry right in the eyes. "I hope to do it again some time," he said quietly, smirking internally as Harry's flush deepened a bit.

Still smirking, he turned around, and left a rather confused Boy Who Lived, and a rather shocked Weasley.

---

Draco had proceeded to put his trunk on the luggage rack, and then go to the front carriage for the Head Boy and Girl meeting, but he didn't pay much attention to what Snape and McGonagall were telling him and the new Head Girl, who was, surprise surprise (note the heavy, acidic, Draco-like sarcasm here), Granger.

He knew all about what being Head Boy entailed. Well, he knew that he had his own room, could dock points off whoever and whenever he felt like it, could give people detentions, and had permission to roam the halls of Hogwarts at night with for no reason whatsoever. That was enough to know, right? He didn't necessarily _need_ to know about all that shit with planning 'clubs' and 'balls' and 'setting a good example to younger students'.

After politely waiting for McGonagall to stop gabbling on about something to which Granger was listening to intently, nodding her bushy head every now and then, Draco nodded once to show that he understood whatever it was he was meant to have been listening to, and left the compartment without a word to anyone.

"Malfoy, maybe we should-" Draco heard Granger say behind him, but he ignored her and walked out of the carriage.

She's not worth my breath, Draco thought, wrinkling his nose slightly. Mudblood. He had somehow lost interest in tormenting her since fifth year. It had just gotten … _boring_. Actually, it _was_ pretty fun if she was around Potter, because then he'd get a rise out of Potter when he insulted _her_.

He'd call her a Mudblood, and Potter would furrow his brows and looks all angry and indignant … and sometimes he'd yell stupid, childish insults at Draco (during the rare times that he talked in sixth year, that is) that the blonde found highly amusing …

Draco stopped and looked in through the glass window of the compartment he was passing and grinned.

Harry was there alone, sitting on a seat and looking bored out of his mind. There was a large pile of sweets and chocolates next to him, but he hadn't seemed to have eaten any of them.

This was because he had lost his appetite when Ron and Hermione had announced they were going to 'uh … look for … um … food', aka make out after Hermione's Head Girl meeting.

But at least they didn't make out in the compartment right in front of him, thank God. Harry had seen enough of that to last him a _lifetime_. Not that he could complain when he was dating Ron's sister, but still.

This was the opportune moment, Draco decided, to pull a few moves on Potter. Maybe. If he didn't faint from the shock of it all, that is.

Putting on his most devastating (in a good way, though) smirk, Draco sauntered into the compartment, looking very much like he owned the whole train.

"Alright there, Potter?" he said.

Harry's head jerked upwards and he frowned when he saw it was Malfoy.

"Oh, you. Hi again," Harry said, trying not to sound too nervous. What did Malfoy want now?

"Now that's not a very nice way to talk to someone who helped you carry your trunk now, is it?" Draco smirked.

"Err … yeah. OK," Potter mumbled.

"So, what are you up to now?" Draco enquired.

Potter shrugged.

"Uh ... er ... not much," he said quietly.

"Still as conversational as last year, I see," Draco said sarcastically. Couldn't Potter string a sentence together? "Nice to know that your powers of speech haven't diminished."

"Shut up Malfoy, what do you care, anyway?" Potter snapped.

Draco grit his teeth a bit and forced himself not to fall back into this old game – Potter behaves like a dick, Draco spits out a razor-sharp insult, Potter makes a meagre attempt at his own insult, Draco insults Potter's pathetic attempt at an insult, Potter gets pissed, and then they end up having a fight.

Instead, he grinned.

"So, Potter, where's Gina?" he said brightly, deciding to make some polite chitchat.

"Gina?" Potter frowned, looking puzzled. "Who's Gina?"

Draco rolled his eyes.

"'Who's Gina?'" he repeated in an incredulous tone. "Merlin, Potter, you know, the redhead who had herself draped all over you at the platform. The one who was snogging the life out of you, that is, not Weasel. You know, Gina, your girlfriend?"

Harry's gaze was slightly stony. Damn. What had Draco said wrong now?

"Her name is _Ginny_, Malfoy. Ginny, not Gina."

Oh. So that's what it was. Hmm, well, Draco had thought of her as Gina ever since fifth year when he found out that she was a slut who'd go out with anyone who had money. Before that he'd merely thought of her as The Weaselette.

"Right. Well. Yeah. Her. Where is she?" Draco asked, trying to go back to the subject at hand (which was to make pleasant conversation with the Boy Who Lived).

"I don't know, I think she went to the toilet," Potter shrugged. Suddenly he narrowed his eyes at Draco, looking suspicious. "Why do you want to know, Malfoy? I swear, if you lay a hand on her-"

"Calm yourself, Potter, I'm not interested in your girlfriend," Draco drawled, slightly insulted that Potter thought that he, the resident Sex God of Hogwarts would consider fucking someone who was as slutty as her. "I find that some of her other companions are …" here, Draco let his eyes trail obviously up and down Harry's form, "much more appealing."

Harry blushed slightly, against his will.

"Whatever, Malfoy," he said, turning to look out of the window. Draco noticed that his cheeks were still red, making him look even cuter and more innocent than usual.

The Slytherin smirked. Potter was no longer pissed off with him, but was, in fact, rather embarrassed because of a tiny little comment Draco said. His work here was done.

"This is where I take my leave," the blonde informed Harry, who muttered, "Whatever," again.

Just as he was about to walk out of the compartment, he bumped into Gina – that is, Ginny – who winked at him, smiling in what she probably thought was a 'sexy' manner.

Draco wrinkled his nose slightly in disgust and hissed, "Out of the way, whore."

Unfortunately for him, Harry heard. The black-haired boy scowled and said, "What did you say to her, Malfoy?"

Draco fixed his grey eyes on him and smirked.

"I said, 'Can I use the door?'," the blonde said innocently.

Harry glared, but didn't say anything.

Draco left the compartment, for once deciding to have enough consideration and closing the sliding door properly. He turned and walked up the train to find Blaise.

As he looked for his friend, he smirked to himself. The bet was coming along nicely … a few more weeks and BAM, Potter would be his.

Draco cringed inwardly.

'BAM'? Since when did he get so Muggle-ised?

---

Harry and Ginny sat in their compartment alone, and in silence, for about ten minutes.

At the beginning of those ten minutes, Ginny had kept trying to sit on Harry's lap and kiss him and rub his crotch, but Harry had been a) too embarrassed, b) too scared, and c) too worried about Ron (who had been gone with Hermione for thirty minutes already, still 'looking for food') catching them like that to allow that sort of behaviour to continue.

So, with a huff, Ginny had settled for sitting opposite him and looking out of the window, leaving Harry to his own thoughts.

Why the hell had Malfoy helped him? Was it some stupid ploy that would lead to embarrassing him in the end? Why had he wanted to know where 'Gina' was? And also, had Malfoy been _hitting on him?_

The last question was the one that interested (not to mention disturbed) Harry the most. Not because Malfoy was hitting on a guy (Malfoy had been openly bisexual since the beginning of sixth year), but the fact that Malfoy had been hitting on _him_ was the thing that _really_ bothered him.

Was it some sort of sick joke? Or did Malfoy _really_ find him attractive? Harry snorted to himself. He doubted that. Malfoy hated him. But you don't have to like someone to find them attractive, a little voice in his head said. You find _Malfoy_ attractive, and you most certainly don't like him.

Harry blinked at his own thoughts. He didn't find Malfoy attractive! That was preposterous. He was a guy. A _guy_ with a _girlfriend._ Malfoy was just … OK, he was a pretty good looking bloke, but _everyone_ knew that! Still, so what if he thought Malfoy was attractive? The real question was, did Malfoy find _him_ attractive?

Luckily, Harry's attention was diverted from this long train of thought (which probably would have resulted in him being all broody and analysing Malfoy's behaviour half to death), by the two figures that were walking past his compartment.

Forgetting to ask Ginny if she minded them sitting there, Harry jumped up and yelled, "Hey, Dean! Seamus! Come in here, share our compartment!"

He was glad for their arrival partly because he would actually have someone to talk to about something interesting, as opposed to listening to Ginny yammer on about nail polish and who was cheating on who (his girlfriend tended to be a tad superficial at times), and partly because this was a welcome distraction from thinking about the Slut of Slytherin (this was what Malfoy was known as among the Gryffindor house, though no one had dared to say it to his face since dear Tristan Ukendgh – may he sleep in peace – who had ended up with a black eye, a bloody nose, a mild concussion, and an unsightly curse which gave him nightmares about showing up in class naked for weeks).

"Hey Harry," Dean smiled at him tentatively, as if afraid Harry might rebuke him.

"Alright there," Seamus grinned.

"How was your summer?" Harry asked them.

Dean and Seamus both looked at each other and grinned simultaneously. They turned back to Harry.

"Good to be back on speakin' terms with ya, mate," Seamus said.

Harry looked sheepish.

"Yeah, sorry about that. I guess I just needed-" he started, apologising about being incredibly quiet for the best part of sixth year.

"Alone time, yeah, we all do." Seamus finished for him.

Harry grinned as the two boys began telling him about their summer.

Seamus went on holiday to Amsterdam ('brilliant, Harry, 'effing brilliant') where he had a brief holiday fling with an attractive Muggle girl, and Dean went to the Caribbean ('nevernevernever go there in summer, you'll be roasted alive') where he got … well … 'roasted alive', in his words. Then, Seamus had spent the last week at Dean's house, and Dean had got Seamus quite interested in football, so the boys constantly played it like sad, sad football maniacs.

Throughout this conversation Harry could see that his girlfriend was getting bored, so he tried to steer the subject to something she might like to talk about.

"Err, so, uh, guys, you … buy any … trendy … clothes?"

Dean gave him a rather alarmed look, before he understood that Harry was trying to involve Ginny in the conversation, but Seamus laughed loudly for some weird reason.

"What? What did I say?" Harry was confused.

Seamus sniggered and Dean just rolled his eyes and said, "Nothing, Harry, Seamus is just being a prat and probably thought you sounded a little gay, that's all."

Harry's eyes widened.

"Oh." He said. "But I'm not," he quickly added, looking at Ginny, who was tapping her fingers on the window ledge in a bored manner, and didn't seem to be hearing anything they were saying.

Seamus laughed again, as Dean said, "Yeah, we know that," and smiled.

The compartment door was pushed open, and four heads peeked in. The aforementioned heads belonged to – Harry believed – Elaine, Sara, Annie and Jane, some of Ginny's friends.

Ginny seemed to perk up when she saw them.

"Hey, my little babes!" she squealed.

One of the girls – Annie or Jane – squealed back ("It's so good to see you!") and even did a little jump.

Ginny jumped out of the seat, and ran over to give them all a hug at the same time. This seemed a rather difficult thing to do, Harry thought, but the girls seemed to manage it rather well.

"What have you been up to, then?" the girl Harry thought was called Elaine asked, somewhat slyly, and gave a sidelong glance to Harry.

"Oh, you know, a bit of this, a bit of that," Ginny said coyly, and Harry suddenly found himself with his arm around her, and her breasts being pressed to his side. He had no idea how that had happened.

Seamus was sniggering, most probably at Harry's confused expression, and one of Ginny's friends nudged another, and they both giggled.

"Harry," Ginny turned to her boyfriend, "I'm going to go share a compartment with them, OK? It'll give us both time to catch up with our friends. I'll see you in the Great Hall," and with that, Ginny pulled Harry towards her, snogged him quite thoroughly, got her trunk, and then left with her giggling friends, leaving Harry standing there, speechless.

"_Damn_ she's a ho," Seamus muttered quietly to Dean, who nodded.

"Harsh but fair, Seamus, harsh but fair."

---

"Draco," Hogwarts' resident Sex God's name was purred. "Do you wanna go somewhere more …" the girl paused, sweeping her light brown hair backwards in what she probably believed was a seductive motion, and pouted her lips slightly. "Private?" she breathed, her hand on top of Draco's knee.

Draco seemed not to have heard anything the girl had said, for he was too busy looking at her hand – the one on top of his knee – in disgust.

"Well?" she leaned in towards Draco.

"Get your hand the fuck off me, Parkinson," Draco growled, not tearing his disgusted gaze away from her hand, which was still on his knee. The girl made no move to move it away. In fact, she squeezed lightly.

Looking (and feeling) like he was about to puke, Draco repeated, "Get your hand the fuck off me, Parkinson."

Pansy just smiled and said, "Oh, come on, Drake, don't you wanna have a bit of fun?" and leaned in even closer. Draco tore his eyes away from the disgusting sight of her hand on his knee and fixed his gaze on the even more disgusting sight of her pug-like face. She was now dangerously close to his mouth.

Blaise started sniggering at Draco's expression – the guy looked like he would rather die a thousand deaths, let himself be taken up the arse by a twelve-year-old, and eat shit rather than have Pansy so close to him.

"Did you not hear me the first time, Parkinson? Or the second? Or the hundredth time, for that matter?" Draco spoke softly and dangerously. Pansy looked confused. Draco suddenly grabbed her wrist tightly, making the girl cry out in pain. "I. Am. Not. Interested," the grey-eyed youth hissed, eye narrowed. He squeezed her wrist slightly. "Understand?" he whispered, his facial features twisted into one of his favourite looks – the 'Do What I Say Or Die A Very Painful Death' look. It was one of his best ones too, and everyone knew that he was being serious when he used it.

Pansy nodded fearfully, obviously deciding that coming onto Draco wasn't worth losing her hand for. The blonde had a very painful grip.

"Good," Draco said, perfectly pleasantly, as if he had just warned Parkinson that it would be raining tonight and told her to bring an umbrolly (a Muggle instrument used to protect them from rain) with her.

He sat back and Pansy removed herself from his side, and opted to sit next to Blaise, who was sitting opposite Draco.

The door of their compartment suddenly opened, and in strolled Theodore Nott (a tall, somewhat weedy, boy with golden blonde hair, rather plain brown eyes, and quite large ears), with Crabbe and Goyle right behind him.

Draco raised an eyebrow, looking amused.

"Merlin, Nott, why don't you just walk around with a big sign on your forehead that says 'I Wanna Be Draco Malfoy'," he said, and Blaise sniggered.

Nott scowled at him.

"Piss off, Malfoy," he snapped.

Draco's eyebrow was raised even higher.

"No, you piss off, Nott, because, may I remind you, you're in _my_ compartment," he pointed out.

"Just thought we'd come over for a chat, didn't we boys?" Nott asked Crabbe and Goyle, who didn't even acknowledge the question. They just stood behind him, looking somewhat awkward as their heads were nearly touching the ceiling. "Didn't we, boys?" Theodore repeated, annoyed at having to ask the question twice. Still no luck. "Didn't we!" Nott practically yelled.

Crabbe and Goyle blinked and both looked as though they had just heard him, and nodded dumbly.

"Oh, thought you'd come over for a friendly little 'chat', did you?" Blaise asked, sneering.

"I wasn't talking to you, Zabini," Nott drawled (well, at least, tried to). He really does want to become me, Draco mused. How interesting. And a little sick, I have to admit, he better not take this thing too far, otherwise I may be forced to teach him a lesson with one of those handy little curses I learnt this summer.

Theodore did, admittedly, have his hair slicked back. And he was being flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. And he was attempting to drawl and sneer. Well, good luck to him, but no one can be me, Draco thought smugly. I'm too goddamn sexy. Plus, Nott tries way to hard. And his ears are too damn big.

He had been friends with him a couple of years ago, actually. The two boys had started talking at the beginning of fifth year, and soon after, Theodore had joined Draco's little gang which consisted of him, Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy, Millicent, and Morag MacDougal (Blaise had tended to hang out with Slytherins in the year above).

But they had a huge falling out at the end of that year.

Right after Potter had put his father in Azkaban, and Draco had threatened the boy (he had no idea why he had done it, probably to prove that Potter wouldn't get away with locking away a Malfoy, or something), he had gone back to the Slytherin Common Room and bragged about how he would have cursed Potter into next year had Professor Snape not stopped him.

The thing is, for some reason, Nott hadn't believed him. While the whole Common Room had been in awe, Nott had scoffed and said, "Yeah right, like you could handle Potter on your own." Draco had hissed, "What's _that_ supposed to mean?" How dare this stupid boy question him, a Malfoy?

"Come on, Draco, let's face the facts: he's a better wizard than you," Nott had said.

"_What?_" Draco had hissed angrily.

"You heard me," Nott had stuck his chin out defiantly. "Why do you think he always beats you at Quidditch?"

Draco had been shocked that someone he had previously considered an acquaintance – and a fellow Slytherin, at that – actually dared to call Potter a better wizard than him _right to his face._

Needless to say, Draco had not been very happy with the boy _at all._ Their argument went on for another few minutes, and had progressed to a scuffle, which ended when Draco gave Nott a nice, big shiner on his right eye. Nott hadn't even been able to get in a shove, let alone a punch, which spoke volumes in Draco's book.

"Nott, are you going to leave any time soon? You're polluting my air," the blonde drawled, looking rather bored.

Nott sneered, but motioned to Crabbe and Goyle to leave, and exited the compartment, but not before being kind enough to stop and say, "Fuck you," to Draco, who snorted in amusement.

"Draco-" Pansy began, but Draco ignored her.

"Original, isn't he?" he commented to Blaise, who smirked.

"Draco," Pansy whined, trying to get the boy's attention.

Draco continued to ignore her.

"_Draaacooo_," Pansy whined (in a particularly loud and annoying fashion, the boy whose name was being whined felt).

Draco grit his teeth in irritation, and finally looked at the girl.

"What?" he growled.

She smirked slightly, and flicked her hair back with her hand.

"That good looking Ravenclaw bloke that you fucked last year, Terry Belt or something, is right outside the door. I think he wants to talk to you."

---

Draco stood against the wall opposite the two toilet cubicles of the train, tapping his foot in irritation.

Terry Boot had wanted to 'talk' to Draco about something. Draco had sighed and had followed Boot out of the compartment. Boot had then proceeded to pin him against the wall (their positions were quickly turned, of course, as Draco was _no one's_ bitch), and had kissed the hell out of him.

"Fancy a quick blow job?" he offered breathily, nodding towards the men's cubicle.

"Why not?" Draco smirked. After all, he never _did_ like to disappoint those eager to pleasure him – and Boot was quite fit, after all.

Unfortunately, the guy had the insane idea of going into the cubicle first and making Draco wait _ten minutes _before following. Draco had refused at first, but then Boot had promised he'd make it worthwhile. Draco had sighed melodramatically but nodded, though he didn't understand why he had to wait _ten minutes_ (he was _not_ a patient guy at the best of times). Boot had said that it was so no one would realise they were there together. Draco had shrugged and said, "Your booty call." He also realised that Boot probably wouldn't want his girlfriend (some Ravenclaw chick) to find out.

Yes, Boot was one of his recurring lovers. Most of his conquests Draco had just fucked and left, but those that were _really_ quite wonderful in bed (or on their knees, whatever) he kept around, and used when he got horny – assuming they were fine with it, of course. Which they were, because, after all, if Draco went to see them, they _knew_ that it wasn't because he was looking for a relationship.

Plus, this was _Draco Malfoy_. _Anyone_ would be fine with getting into Draco Malfoy's pants.

So now he was currently waiting for those ten dratted minutes to be up and so that Boot could give him some mind-blowing (or at least _good_) head.

Annoyed, he started drumming his fingers against his arm and wishing that time would go faster.

Suddenly there was giggling, and about five girls suddenly filed into the single girl's cubicle, which was next to the men's. One of them was the Weaselette. She winked at him before she went into the toilet, and Draco rolled his eyes, about to dismiss this giggling bunch of Gryffindor girls until he heard a word that immediately peaked his interest – '_Harry_'.

"Ohmigod, Harry is _such_ a good kisser!"

I'll bet he is, Draco thought unconsciously. He identified the voice to be Weasley's.

"Even better than Terry Boot, you mean? That's the one you slept with, right?" one of her Gryffindor girlfriends asked her in an annoying giggly voice.

Draco blinked. Terry _Boot?_ And the _Weaselette?_ He wrinkled his nose, suddenly put off of the prospect of getting the guy to give him a blow job. He'd been with the Weasel-Whore, for Chrissakes! He was contaminated! Draco was _definitely_ not going into the men's cubicle now – Boot could wait for the whole afternoon, fuck if he cared! He wasn't going to _touch_ him after _that_ piece of information.

"Yeah," Weasel-Bitch said, making her friends giggle.

Although, Draco's subconscious said, _Potter's _been contaminated by the Weaselette and you're still gonna have to touch _him_. Draco ignored his subconscious.

"Harry is, like, _so_ totally dreamy!" one of Weasley's friends said.

"And he's _mine_," the Weaselette said proudly. Not for long, Draco thought, smirking. After all, how could a poor redheaded slut even _begin_ to compare to a charming, witty, ingenious blonde Sex God?

"It's a wonder that he's only ever kissed two people before!"

Her friends exploded into giggles and chatter. Draco sniggered to himself quietly.

Potter's only ever kissed _two people_? He'd never known that Potter was _that_ frigid. The boy had probably never been given a decent blow job either, if who his girlfriend was was anything to go by. Nott had gone out (well, got off, more like) with the Weaselette about two years ago at a party, and he had told Draco that when the girl gave head it felt like a leech was trying to suck out his blood.

"Oh yeah, when I fucked around with Stewart Ackerly last year, you know what he told me?"

"_Ginny,_ he's like three years younger than you!"

"Who cares, he's cute! Anyway, what did he say?"

"Yeah, what did he tell you, Ginny?"

"He told me that he-" and then the girl proceeded to tell her giggling friends about something completely boring that the Ravenclaw boy had done with a book and some candles.

But Weasel-Whore had cheated on Potter with Ackerly? What the fuck was wrong with her? Ackerly resembled a dog, if you really thought about it (and Draco was quite sure he was thinking of the correct person), and Potter was just plain sexy! How could she even have _kissed_ Ackerly?

Draco cringed internally. He was getting bad mental images of the Weaselette and the fourteen-year-old boy going at it like rabbits.

"You went out with Anthony Goldstein as well last year, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but he wasn't," giggle, "that good in bed, he was a bit-" giggle giggle, "_deprived_ in the equipment area, if you know what I mean!" More giggling. _That_ was true, Draco knew. He had been with Goldstein himself, a year ago. The boy hadn't really _measured up_ to Draco's standards, if you get the drift. Not that Draco had let him take him, God no. Draco hadn't had anyone take him since-

"Hey Ginny, how many guys did you actually date last year, including Harry?"

"Hmm, well, let me think … well, there was Stew, and Ant, then there was Howard, and Owen, and … what was his name … oh yeah, Zach, and …"

And Weasel-Whore rambled on about all the guys she had fucked around with last year. Damn, the girl really _was_ a whore! Imagine how Potter would feel if he found out that his girlfriend had cheated on him with-

"_Ginny!_ That's _fourteen_ whole guys!"

-fourteen whole guys. Draco allowed himself a smirk. All he had to do was let slip to Potter that his girlfriend had been cheating on him, and hey presto, the two would break up and Potter would be his for the taking!

Still smirking to himself, Draco left the toilet area, not bothering to inform Boot (the contaminated freak!), and walked back to his compartment.

Unfortunately, as he was doing so, he was greeted with the God-awful sight of Weasel and the Mudblood snogging as he passed their compartment. Cringing slightly, and praying fervently to Merlin that he never saw another display like that again, he gave Potter a quick glance, a grin, and a wink (leaving the innocent boy looking a bit flushed and confused, of course), and proceeded to enter his compartment.

"Draco!"

Draco's name was said by two people at the same time – one was Pansy, who whined it (as she often tended to do so), and the other was Blaise, who sounded a bit annoyed.

"What?" Draco snapped.

"You took so _long_ and I _missed_ you," Pansy pouted. Draco ignored her, as he usually did, and instead looked at Blaise questioningly.

"Why did you go and … you know …" Blaise made a random gesture with his hands, "with him?"

"Really, Blaise, I hardly 'you know' with him. I simply had a bit of fun – _not_ that I'll be doing that again with Boot, you might be pleased to know."

"Why?" Pansy asked, eyes wide and ears poised, fully ready to take in any juicy gossip.

Draco gave her a dirty look.

"You're such a gossip-whore," he sneered.

Blaise snorted.

"Look who's talking," he muttered under his breath. Draco shot him a glare.

"Care to say that again, Zabini?" he asked coldly, grey eyes narrowed and suddenly empty.

Blaise shook his head, shocked that Draco had heard him.

"Hey, Draco, I didn't mean … I … I was joking, I meant …" Blaise started pathetically.

"Forget it," Draco said, shaking his head in disgust.

There were a few moments of silence, which were interrupted by Pansy.

"No, really, Drake, why won't you ever do Boot again? Could he not get it up, or what?"

Draco rolled his eyes and ignored Pansy, who gave a little huff of displeasure.

"But _Draco_," it was now Blaise who was doing the whining, "one of the requirements are that you've got to stay _faith-_" Blaise stopped suddenly, realising (thanks to Draco sending wild signals of regret with his eyebrows) that they didn't particularly want to let Pansy in on this because, to be frank, you tell Pansy, two minutes later, the whole school knows.

Luckily Pansy didn't seem to be listening, judging from the fact that she was picking the nail polish off her nails with an expression of utmost intensity.

If someone else had done that, you'd have thought 'oh, they're just pretending not to listen but they actually _are_ listening', but with Pansy, it was more than likely that her action was taking up her entire attention span.

"I'm not going out with him yet, am I?" Draco demanded in a quieter voice. "So I don't see why I can't fuck about with other people before I start dating him – you said nothing about _that_," he pointed out, despite the fact that he didn't _actually_ do anything with Boot (apart from kiss). But that was besides the point – he was sure there'd be others that he'd be willing to fuck around with. Ones that _hadn't_ been contaminated by Weasley.

"Dammit," Blaise cursed, furrowing his dark brows and realising his friend was right.

Draco smirked, then looked at Pansy (who was still peeling nail polish off her fingernails) and wrinkled his nose.

"Can't she just … go fuck off with one of her girly friends and stop _bothering_ us," he said.

"Yeah," Blaise agreed. "She's so boring," he said, not bothering to lower his voice.

"I know, hell, watching grass grow is more fun than listening to her inane chatter, or rather, watching her 'concentration face' while she's peeling off nail polish!" Draco agreed.

There were a few moments of silence. Draco and Blaise looked at each other. They both smirked.

"Pansy, dearest," Draco said.

Pansy looked up, blinking.

"Did you say something, Draco?" she smiled.

Draco looked at Blaise, and then smiled back sweetly. Pansy frowned. Draco _never_ smiled – and when he did, it was an _evil_ smile. Despite the fact that it was meant to be sweet … seeing Draco smile 'sweetly' was like watching Beelzebub about to shove a pitchfork up your arse. That meant that something was going to happen … something _bad_ …

Sure enough, not thirty seconds later, Pansy Parkinson could be seen running out of her compartment and screaming her lungs out – and it was clear why. Her normally long, light-brown hair which she was incredibly proud of was now short (think: mullet), and fluorescent green.

In the compartment, her two fellow Slytherins were almost pissing themselves with laughter. The hex would fade off – but not for another ten minutes, or so.

"And even if we get in trouble, it was worth it, _just_ to see the look on her face!" Blaise laughed, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes.

Draco nodded, grinning.

"We have _got_ to do that again."

The train lurched to a stop, and Draco sighed. He hadn't changed into his robes yet, and they were already at Hogwarts.

Pansy ran (still screaming, and still green-haired) past their compartment.

The two young men looked at each other, and collapsed into laughter again.

Boys – I guess they're the same all over, aren't they?


	4. Harry's Semi Existent Libido

**A/N: **Hello all. Many, many, many apologies for the extreme lateness of this chapter (for those that are wondering … it has been eleven months and two weeks – practically a year, yikes). I'm soooooo sorry! I just had a _major _writer's block for the best part of the year, and was only really inspired about a week ago (and I'm not even going to go into all the coursework/homework I'm getting, although I'm not exactly working up a sweat trying to meet my deadlines). This chapter was quite hard to write, although there's not really much happening in it, nothing incredibly integral to the plot (I don't think). It was hard to write fillers, to join one part to another. And the Sorting Hat song … don't even get me started. Really difficult to make it sound even remotely wise. So I'm truly sorry that the Sorting Hat's song is shit, I hope you forgive me for that. But anyway, despite certain spots of crapnosity, I hope you all enjoy this chapter!

**Thank you** to Dora-the-elda (thanks for pointing out the typo and the long, ramble-full sentence that was hard to understand. And thank you for those couple of lines for the Sorting Hat's song, which you may be pleased to see I used. And thanks for your praise about the chapter – you best be careful my ego doesn't get too big, lol!), Ahja Reyn (lol, sorry it took you so long for you to read it, hope you liked it though!), kim ('k, updating! Sorry it took so long, though!), Layce74 (yay! thanks!), Demitria Miriam (lol, yay! That's great, I'm very happy you love it:) Yup yup, I shall make sure to update lots and lots, just as you said! However, it takes me five million years to update, so sorry about that, lol. The seducing shall start next chapter. Probably. So stay tuned!), Alora (fear not, I am sure that Harry _will_ be careful. Ish. Sorry it took me ages to update!), Machi (I quite agree! Not with the awesomeness – although thank you muchly for that:) – but with my chapters coming so far apart. I know, and I'm sooooo sorry it's taken me a gazillion years to update, but I promise I will _try_ to get them out sooner! Hope you enjoy this one!), Miss Moonlight (sorry it's taken me such a long time to update!), silvertips (I hope that was a good 'holy crap', lol. Whoops, that came out kinda wrong … Anyhow, sorry it's taken me so long to update! I'll try – stress on the _try_ – to update sooner next time!), Ashes of Stars (yay, thanks! Hope you enjoy this chappy!), TinyClownBean1 (yay, thank you! Sorry it's taken so long to update, but I hope you enjoy this chapter! Your name is v. cute, by the way, lol:)), fifespice (I know, Ginny _is _a slut – I don't even know why I'm making her one, since I actually like her character, lol! Anyhow, about the bet, you shall have to wait and see! Sorry it took a while for me to update, enjoy the chappy!), nickainai (yay! Glad you're interested! Sorry it took me so long to update, hope you enjoy this chapter!), MachiavellianOrange (lol, indeed you are right! But I meant to put across how bored she was while he was talking – so bored that she'd prefer looking at a wall, lol), Phinea (yay! I'm very glad you think it's funny _and _well-paced! I thought it was a bit slow myself – I mean, it's been three chapters and they haven't even got to Hogwarts yet, lol – but I'm glad you like it. Hope you enjoy this chapter!), MY MinD (hope I didn't keep you waiting _too _long … um … yeah … lol, hope you enjoy this chapter!) and little kitsune (yay, so glad you love it! And hmm, who says that Harry's going to find out? This is me trying to entice you into reading and reviewing regularly by the way, lol!) for reviewing. Guys, your reviews _always_ make me smile, and remember, don't be too scared to give any criticisms you think might help me make the story better! Keep reviewing, folks, and I'll keep this story going (well, I'll keep it going anyway, but you know what I mean)!

**Title:** The Skill of Seducing

**Author:** MoonlightPhoenix1

**Genre:** Drama/Romance

**Rating:** R

**Summary:** SLASH. Draco swings both ways, is an acclaimed sex-god and boy does he know it. It is widely known that Harry Potter is straight and has a girlfriend of one year, Ginny Weasley. What happens when something that started off as a bet starts to get out of hand? RE-WORKED.

* * *

_With the lights out  
It's less dangerous  
Here we are now  
Entertain us  
I feel stupid_

_And contagious  
Here we are now  
Entertain us_

_A mulatto  
An albino  
A mosquito  
My libido_

_Yeah  
- 'Smells Like Teen Spirit', Nirvana_

* * *

**The Skill of Seducing**

Chapter 4: Harry's (Semi) Existent Libido

Draco Malfoy could be seen scowling heavily, and taking long, quick strides to his table in the Great Hall. Blaise Zabini was struggling to catch up with him without looking too desperate. He seemed to be pleading.

A few people had, as per usual, turned around to stare at Draco with poorly-concealed lust all over their respective faces, but not many people were paying _that _much attention to the two Slytherins.

"Draco, come on, man … it was just a joke … I didn't, like … _mean_ it or anything …" Blaise was saying.

Draco turned around suddenly, grey eyes flashing.

"As much as you may wish to believe so, I do _not_ appreciate being felt up by my so-called 'straight' friend."

"But Draco, I-"

"_Six_ times in _two minutes_!"

"Hey, you know, that was an accide-"

"While I was _half-naked!_"

"Look, I didn't mean to-"

"You're never getting near me when I'm changing again, got that, Zabini?"

"But Draco, I-"

"I said, _got that_?"

"… Alright, I got it. But Draco, seriously, I'm-"

Draco turned around and strode off to the end of the table, still scowling. Fucking Zabini. Draco was now officially rather pissed off. Where did Blaise come off having the audacity to put his hand on his chest, and then on his arse? _Six times?_

Not that he'd complain if … Harry Potter, say, had tried to feel him up, but Blaise was his _friend_, his _partner-in-crime_, his _comrade-in-arms_. Yes, he had slept with him, but Blaise had been at the 'experimenting' stage, and had told Draco that he'd decided he was straight three weeks after, and they had a purely non-sexual friendship (mainly because Draco couldn't stand to be tied down, and, well, mostly because he didn't find Blaise all that sexy, although he was rather good-looking) and-

Draco blinked. Had he just thought 'I wouldn't complain if Potter felt me up'? Quickly, in his head, he back-tracked through his previous thoughts. He blinked again.

Bugger. He was really getting into this bet thing, wasn't he? And it was only the first day of term!

"Draco?" a hesitant voice came behind him. Draco sighed, and turned around. Blaise wasn't looking Draco in the eyes, and was wriggling his fingers about nervously. "Draco, look, man, I'm _really, really_ sorry, if I had known that-"

"Oh, stop grovelling, Zabini, it really doesn't suit you," Draco said, grinning, his mood suddenly making a 360 degree turn. Blaise looked into his friend's face and grinned back.

"Alright!" he said, and shoved a second-year Slytherin out of the way ("_Hey!_") so that he could sit next to Draco. "Damn, Malfoy, I thought you'd be PMS-ing on me the whole goddamn week! You're such a drama-queen, you know! I mean, really, I grab your arse, and you're all 'ooh, stop that' like a first-year Hufflepuff, and-"

And Blaise rambled on, trying to sound more 'masculine', and trying to get Draco to forget the fact that he was about two minutes away from going down on both knees and begging Draco to forgive him in front of the blonde's steely grey eyes.

Draco rolled aforementioned steely grey eyes, which weren't actually quite as steely as it was rumoured.

"Yes, Blaise, I get the picture, you can quit with the insults."

Meanwhile, at the Gryffindor table, Harry and Ron were talking to Neville, who was sitting opposite them. Neville had grown quite a bit over the summer – he was now as tall as Harry – and this had caused quite a bit of a shock (for Ron, at any rate, who seemed to have forgotten that other people had growth spurts too, as he'd always been the tall one).

"How was your summer, Nev?" Ron asked him, grinning.

"It was good, thanks," Neville said. "Hi, Harry," he said quietly, tentatively smiling at the Boy Who Lived.

"Hey, Neville," Harry smiled back.

Neville looked quite relieved – most probably because Harry wasn't being moody or broody or silent like he had been last year.

"How was your summer, guys?"

Ron shrugged.

"It was good."

"Oh, I'll _bet_ it was …" Seamus put it, winking. "I heard you had Hermione over …"

Ron blushed beetroot red.

"Yeah … well … so?" he said. Seamus just laughed, and turned around to talk to Lavender. Ron blushed even more, but then moved his eyes searchingly across the Great Hall, looking for his girlfriend.

Hermione was standing nervously by the teachers' table, smoothing down her robes and biting her bottom lip. She was meant to make a speech because she was Head Girl, and although she had been told that she was allowed to sit with her friends until the Sorting began, she had been way too nervous and had told her best friends that she would prefer to just get up there and wait until she had to make the speech, and then scurry back to her seat.

It seemed like she was regretting her decision now, though.

"Mine was OK," Harry said, referring to his summer (and effectively bringing Ron's attention back to the Gryffindor table). "What did you do, Neville?"

"Well, it was good, 'cause Gran signed me up for this fitness course thing, and I've really improved my physical area of well-being!" Neville informed the other Gryffindors happily.

Harry nodded. Neville did look as though he'd lost a bit of weight – he didn't look quite so round-faced as before. In fact, he also no longer looked clumsy. It was rather odd to see Neville Longbottom not looking clumsy.

Of course, right after Harry had thought that about the guy, Neville promptly managed to hit himself in the face with his own hand, fall backwards off his seat, and somehow end up with his head up a Ravenclaw third year's robes.

"Excuse me!" the Ravenclaw girl spluttered indignantly.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so, so, sorry," Neville apologised, trying to sit back up, but only succeeded in getting his head stuck further up the girl's robes.

Ron, laughing, helped him up (without anymore embarrassment for poor Neville), apologised to the young Ravenclaw (who was looking disgusted, but somewhat amused), and helped Neville back to his seat, patting him on the back and saying (referring to his 'physical area of well-being'), "That's great, Neville!"

Harry chuckled. Neville was still the same – still as clumsy as ever, despite not looking it.

"Uh, anyway, I also did a bit of work experience in Herbert's Herbal Company this summer," Neville said quickly, attempting to get Dean and Seamus to stop sniggering at his brief escapade, "that's a wizard herbal-Healing company, and it grows all kinds of different magical plants, and sends them off to St Mungo's so that they can be used in healing potions and remedies. I spent about two weeks working with the company, and they told me that I was amazing, and that I would be a great addition to their team! So, I'm, uh," Neville blushed a bit, "I'm kind of thinking about working there full time when I leave Hogwarts."

"Nev, that's great!" Ron said, while Harry nodded, grinning. "Merlin, I wish someone would tell _me_ that I was amazing at some job!"

"What do you want to do after Hogwarts, Ron?" Neville asked him curiously.

"Well, I'm kind of thinking that I might work at Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes, you know, the shop my brothers run-"

"_Everyone_ knows about _that!_" a fourth-year Gryffindor sitting next to Ron butted in. "They're, like, the _idols_ of all pranksters-in-training!"

Ron glared at the boy. Harry knew it was because he still had issues with being 'overshadowed' by his older brothers.

"Hey, sorry, just felt like giving you my opinion."

"Yeah, well, keep your opinions to yourself until you're asked for them in the future!" Ron snapped. The fourth-year shrugged, and started talking to his friends. "Anyway, as I was saying," Ron continued, "I might work there for a bit, you know, to get a bit of extra cash, and then, afterwards … well … I dunno, really." He paused, looking thoughtful.

Thank Merlin! Harry thought. At least not _everyone_ knows what they want to do after Hogwarts apart from me.

However, it appeared he thought too soon, for Ron said, sounding embarrassed, "I'm … it sounds stupid, but … I'm thinking about trying out for the Chudley Cannons, because, well, you know, they just _rule, _and if I don't get in, then maybe doing something to do with chess, I guess."

"That's cool," Neville said, and then turned to Harry. "What about you?" he asked.

"Merlin, don't even _ask_ me!" Harry groaned. "I have no bloody clue! I mean, there's nothing that I'm particularly _good_ at …"

"Pfft!" Ron scoffed. "Come on, Harry, you're an amazing Seeker!"

"Yeah!" Neville agreed. "And you've fought the bad guys _lots_ of times! You're good at Transfiguration _and _Charms! You could be an Auror!"

Harry winced.

"No, thank you. I've had enough bad guy-fighting to last me a _lifetime,_ and I haven't even killed Voldemort yet!"

Neville and Ron both flinched at the name, but tried to pretend they hadn't. Harry just ignored the flinching – it was easier not to get annoyed if he pretended that people were _not _still afraid to say '_You-bloody-Know-Who's_' name.

Talking of killing Voldemort and generally fighting the bad guys, Harry had, indeed, thought about becoming an Auror in his fifth year. However, that thought had quickly evaporated into nothingness once Sirius had died. After all, how the hell could he, Harry, hope to protect hundreds of innocents – Muggles and wizards alike – when he had stupidly led his friends into a trap and couldn't even save his own godfather? He _did _still feeling slightly drawn to the Auror job, but chose to talk about it disdainfully, hoping that he might finally convince himself that being an Auror was, in fact, not right for him.

"Well then, flying," Ron's voice suddenly said, and Harry blinked, and was quickly drawn out of his reverie. "Hey, you could get onto Puddlemere United, you know, the team that Oliver Wood plays for!" Ron said excitedly.

"I dunno …" Harry said reproachfully, looking gloomy. The truth was – and he had never told anyone this, but – he wasn't so sure that he would survive after the War.

Hell, 'neither can live while the other survives' could mean _anything_! It could mean that Harry couldn't live if Voldemort was still alive, it could mean Voldemort couldn't live while Harry was still alive, it could mean they _both_ couldn't live while the other was alive and would end up killing themselves, or each other, it could mean … fuck, there were so many possibilities! Harry had given this a lot of thought over sixth year, and he had decided that it probably meant that him and Voldemort would end up killing each other, and the wizarding world would be safe.

After all, then there would be no one to kill and torture them – Voldemort – and there would be no one getting them all killed because of his tremendous stupidity – Harry.

Which was exactly why he couldn't become an Auror.

Harry was pulled out of his dark thoughts by an arrival behind Neville. It was a pretty girl who looked as though she was in sixth year, with dirty-blonde, shoulder-length hair and pale eyebrows. She looked quite familiar, but Harry, in his being-consumed-by-my-own-thoughts-state, failed to recognise who she was.

"Hello, Neville!" the pretty girl said, kissing Neville on the cheek.

Neville turned around and smiled, blushing.

"Hey," he said shyly.

"Wahey, Neville! Who's this beauty, eh?" Ron asked, grinning, apparently not recognising the girl either.

Harry squinted at the girl. Her house badge told him that she was in Ravenclaw. She actually did look _quite_ familiar, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it …

She looked right at him, and it was then that he noticed she had radishes hanging off her ears.

"Hello Harry," she smiled, a dreamy look about her.

"Luna!" Harry said, eyebrows going up in pleasant surprise. He grinned. "I hardly recognised you!"

Beside him, Ron choked on some air.

"Woah!" he spluttered. "Luna, you're so … _hot!_" he said, sounding rather surprised (which Harry would have imagined a girl might find quite insulting).

Luna blushed, Neville looked a bit nervous, and the Boy Who Lived raised his eyebrows. It was a good thing Hermione wasn't there to hear that.

Luna and Ron had gone out for around two months at the beginning of sixth year, and since then, Hermione's dislike of Luna had intensified a bit. Not that she _disliked _her, really, no. She just wasn't all that happy if Luna ever hung around with him. Not that she thought Ron still had a thing for his ex, but … if Hermione had heard those words, she might have flipped, so Harry was thankful she wasn't there.

"Thank you, Ronald," the Ravenclaw said in that way of hers, blushing demurely.

Harry saw that Neville was looking a bit nervous.

"Neville, are you two …?" Harry asked.

Neville smiled and nodded, blushing.

"Yeah. We started going out a few weeks ago. We both met at Herbert's Herbal Company and were working on a project together, and, well … we liked each other, I guess," Neville blushed again.

Luna smiled, and kissed him on the cheek again.

"Hey, congratulations, mate!" Ron said cheerfully, smiling.

"Th-thanks, Ron," Neville stuttered slightly, eyes wide. He was obviously happy that Ron wasn't angry he was going out with his ex.

"You look really good, Luna," Ron told the girl.

"Yeah, your eyes are …" Harry didn't quite know how to say 'not as protuberant as before' in a nice way, so he just settled for, awkwardly, "different."

Luna smiled.

"All I did was get a hair-cut. Dad said that my hair was getting too long." She then leant across the table and whispered to Harry, as if he might like to try it sometime, "And the reason my eyes are so different is because I've discovered the infinite magic of using black eyeliner on the inside rim of my eyes." She smiled at his confused expression after sharing this little pearl of girl wisdom with him, told Neville she'd see him later, and went back to the Ravenclaw table.

Ron was staring after her, so Harry nudged him.

"Mate, I _seriously_ recommend you don't do that in front of Neville – _or_ Hermione," Harry said quietly.

Ron blinked.

"I … I've got no idea what you're talking about!" he said quickly, but blushed, which led Harry to believe he wasn't telling the truth.

"Quiet, guys! The Sorting's about to begin!" hissed Parvati Patil, who was sitting next to Neville, looking as elegant as ever.

Harry blinked, realising that there was a long line of first-years, watching the hat that Professor McGonagall had placed on the three-legged stool carefully. He felt an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach as he realised that this was the last time – the last time _ever _– that he would hear the Sorting Hat sing its song, for he wasn't going to be here next year.

The whole hall was silent, and the rip near the hat's brim opened wide like a mouth, and then it began to sing:

_I'll look into your heads_

And I'll tell you what I see,

_And then I will decide _

_In what House you ought to be!_

_Should it be the house,_

_Of the noble Gryffindor?_

_Or would you like to be,_

_In the clever Ravenclaw?_

_Or perhaps the house of Hufflepuff_

_Is more suited to your taste,_

_Or maybe in Slytherin_

_Your talent will not go to waste._

_Gryffindor takes those_

_That are brave, and good and kind,_

_Ravenclaw takes those_

_That are wealthy of wisdom and mind._

_Slytherin picks those_

_That are pure of blood and wit,_

_And Hufflepuff picks those_

_That in warm-heartedness are fit. _

_However, I must implore_

_The most important thing you remember:_

_Is that divided though we may be,_

_It takes a lot to not surrender._

_You are what you are,_

_And in your house you must go,_

_But do not deny opportunities_

_That arrive to help you grow._

_We are stronger together_

_Than we are apart;_

_All four houses in unity_

_Make a school four times as smart._

_But honestly, what do I know?_

_After all, I am just a hat._

_Although it would do you well to remember:_

_There is always much more to the story than that._

_So take off your hats, and fill your cups,_

_And start to shout and cheer;_

_For Hogwarts, though old _

_Is open for another year!_

The Sorting Hat finished its song, and there was a round of applause from the Great Hall. Harry clapped particularly hard, still thinking about how this was the last time he'd heard his song, and Hermione seemed to be thinking along the same lines, for Harry swore he saw her wipe her eyes with her sleeve as she clapped.

_There is always much more to the story than that,_ Harry mulled over the Sorting Hat's words. Not always true. Some people really _are _just what they seem. Take Malfoy, for example. He seems an attractive, devious bastard, and hey! You know what? He is! Harry thought, briefly wondering why he kept thinking of Malfoy.

The Sorting Hat's song seemed quite … cryptic (for example, '_It takes a lot not to surrender'_.Not to surrender_ what?_). Well, not cryptic, so much as so far out no one would give it a second thought (apart from Hermione). The line '_All four houses in unity'_ alone was enough to make Harry laugh.

Ginny winked at him from a few seats away, and the Boy Who Lived felt himself start to blush. He gave her a smile in return.

Once the applause had stopped, the whole Hall went quiet again, for Dumbledore stood up.

"Welcome, everyone, to another wonderful year at Hogwarts. I am sure that many of you are looking forward to the new school year-"

Harry caught sight of Zabini and Malfoy smirking at each other.

"-and others are looking forward to it even _more_, as this will be the year you do your Ordinary Wizarding Levels, or your NastilyExhausting Wizarding Tests-"

Ron groaned quietly, and muttered, "Nice of him to remind us of that."

"-for which I can only wish you the best of luck, but those shall happen further on in the year, so there is no need to think about such subjects now. However, as the subject of new things has already been broached, may I please introduce our new Potions and Charms Teaching Assistant, Malagda Fitswibble, who wishes to be known as Malagda."

Teaching Assistants had been introduced in Harry's sixth year, and they helped with a variety of different subjects for first years, fifth years, and seventh years.

A kind looking witch with light brown hair and a friendly smile stood up briefly while a polite round of applause sounded throughout the Hall. Harry saw Malfoy leering at the witch slightly, and brought his attention back to the teachers' table rolling his eyes. Typical Malfoy. Still, Harry hoped that this Teaching Assistant was as friendly as she looked, for, by some miracle-or-other (Harry suspected that part of it had been Dumbledore's doing), Harry was taking NEWT-Level Potions (despite his strenuous objections that he didn't need it to become an Auror, which was the point of all the lessons he was taking, as Harry hadn't really shared with any of the teachers his strong desire to avoid all Auror-like professions).

In his Potions class were (as far as he knew) Hermione, Dean Thomas, Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott, Pansy Parkinson, Terry Boot, Michael Corner, and Justin Finch-Fletchley. They had all been put into one class although they were in different houses because there hadn't been enough people taking Potions to make two classes (not that Harry was surprised in the least, considering the fact that Snape had scared them all into wanting to drop the subject since the very first Potions lesson any of them had ever had).

Dumbledore waited until the applause had died down, and then said, "And may I also introduce to you Douglas Whittle, our new Transfiguration and Herbology Teaching Assistant, and Henry Djaiinumukuluumiko, our new Divination and Astrology Teaching Assistant."

A young man in his mid-twenties with wavy brown hair and friendly eyes stood up, smiling, gave a little mock-bow (which made a few people laugh), and sat back down (Harry believed this was Whittle). A few moments later, a dark-skinned man older than Whittle stood up, nodded curtly, said in a low, weathered voice, "If my name is too hard to remember, you may call me Mister Djaii," and sat down again (Harry now knew that this was Djaiimanu-Djaiina-Djaiinumkumuno- aw, screw it, Djaii).

The Gryffindor caught sight of Malfoy again, this time eyeing both male Teaching Assistants with heavy interest. Harry turned around, feeling disgusted – Merlin, Malfoy perved on everything that _moved_, how the hell could Harry even been _vaguely _jealous of his physique or whatever it was that he had felt jealous of back on the train? Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on who you're rooting for), in doing this (i.e. turning away in disgust), Harry missed Zabini hitting the blonde on the head and hissing something to him, while nodding his head in Harry's direction.

After the applause had died down again, Dumbledore looked very stern as he said, "And may I remind you all that getting involved in romantic liaisons with _any _member of the staff, Teaching Assistants included, can result in the expulsion of the student, or the professor, and in some cases, both."

Harry could tell that this was aimed directly at Malfoy (who was currently smirking all over his pale face), who had got all four Teaching Assistants sacked from Hogwarts last year, as they all had – from what Harry had heard – slept with Malfoy, or had engaged in some sort of sexual activity with him.

Dumbledore's voice interrupted his chain of thought.

"I regret to inform you that we do not have a Teaching Assistant for Defence Against the Dark Arts and History of Magic this year, but this shall not be a problem as Mister Djaiinumukuluumiko and Ms Malagda have admirably agreed to help a little in both subjects along with the ones they will be fully helping in," Dumbledore said cheerfully, nodding at Djaiinamamamu-thingy, who nodded back in a dignified way, and smiling at Malagda, who smiled brightly back.

"May I also introduce this year's Head Boy and Girl: Mister Draco Malfoy of Slytherin, and Ms Hermione Granger of Gryffindor."

The Great Hall rang with applause, with the Gryffindor and Slytherin tables clapping the hardest. Ron and Seamus cheered and whooped, and there were a number of catcalls (Hermione blushed at her place by the teacher's table). Harry cheered loudly too, and his eyes unconsciously flicked to the Slytherin table – more specifically, to Malfoy.

Malfoy was smirking so smugly it was as if Dumbledore had just announced him to be Supreme Ruler of the Universe – a number of Slytherins were leaning in and congratulating him, shaking his hand and sucking up to him in general, Harry noticed, and cringed in disgust.

Dumbledore waited for the applause to die down, and then said, "Ms Granger would now like to speak to you, so I will appreciate it if you remained silent throughout." The Headmaster sat down, and looked at Hermione, who flushed as she realised that all eyes were now on her.

"Umm," she squeaked.

Harry winced inwardly – Hermione had always been a bit nervous about speaking in front of a big group of people (classes didn't count), and he hoped that she'd be able to do her speech (whatever it was), well.

"Uhh … Headmaster Dumbledore asked me to, um," Hermione faltered slightly as a number of people had started whispering amongst themselves, already having lost interest, "tell you about, er …" she carried on.

Harry glared at those few that were talking at the Gryffindor table, and they stopped as soon as they saw his look. However, this particular trick did not work on other houses.

Hermione paused, and took a deep breath.

"You can do it, 'Mione," Harry muttered under his breath.

Hermione straightened and carried on, more bravely than before, "I am going to briefly tell you about a number of, uh, extracurricular activities that shall be happening this year."

Some of the people in the Great Hall that were talking before started talking a bit louder, as the phrase 'extracurricular activities' was not usually an exciting one.

Hermione, however, ignored them, and just raised her voice.

Harry, with a somewhat annoying curiosity, looked over at Malfoy again, and found (to his surprise), that Malfoy was not one of those talking during Hermione's talk. On the contrary, he looked as though he was actually paying attention, which Harry found rather surprising.

"During the Christmas holidays, there will be a Winter Ball," Harry saw Lavender and Parvati (and a few other girls) gasp delightedly, and begin whispering fervently amongst themselves, "only for those in fourth year and higher," Hermione continued, ignoring the loud groans from the younger years "although younger persons may come _only_ if invited by an older student. Also, sometime in April there will be a Leavers Ball only for seventh years, although, again, those from younger years may come _only_ if invited by a seventh year," a few groans of complaint arose at this from the younger students, but Hermione ignored them, as she still was not done. "There is one main rule for both Balls, and it _must_ be followed, otherwise you shall not be allowed to go the Ball: your escort to the Ball _must_ be from another house."

There was an instant uproar in the Great Hall.

"_What?_" Seamus yelled, looking upset. "She can't expect us to go with blimmin' _Slytherins_, can she? Has Hermione gone crazy, or somethin'?"

"Oi! Don't you insult my girlfriend!" Ron snapped, although he, too, looked rather put out.

"Hey, guys," Dean put in, "I don't think Hermione made the rules …"

"Oh, shut it!" Seamus snapped.

Dean shrugged, looking a little hurt.

Harry wasn't sure how he felt about this whole Ball thing. His first thought was: that means I can't go with Ginny. He was surprised that he was unsure whether he was happy or upset about this fact. His mind drifted to Malfoy, for some insane reason, and he snorted to himself (this earned a worried look from Ron) as he imagined Malfoy going to the Ball with a second year Hufflepuff.

Harry's eyes drifted to Malfoy, who was (to his surprise), looking rather pleased, quite unlike Zabini, who was scowling darkly for some reason. The Slytherins around them were also scowling, and talking loudly, and making rather threatening hand gestures …

Suddenly, Malfoy looked right at Harry, and Harry averted his eyes in shock, and felt a blush creep up on his cheeks (well, his cheeks felt hot, at least) for the fact that he had been caught staring, and at _Malfoy_, no less.

He missed Malfoy's satisfied smirk as he turned his head.

Harry's eyes somehow managed to land on Dumbledore, who was looking at Harry, smiling benignly, and his eyes were twinkling incredibly brightly, even for him.

Harry felt himself start to grin slowly – Dumbledore obviously wanted to encourage house unity or something, crazy old man.

"SILENCE!"

The entire Hall instantly fell silent.

Snape had stood up, skin still sallow (but now flushed with anger) and nose still hooked, and had yelled the word. It had an instant impact on the school, as everyone was used to Snape being silent and dangerous, not loud and livid.

"Umm, thank you, sir," Hermione said graciously to Snape, who didn't even acknowledge her and merely sat down, breathing heavily (Harry thought he saw him mutter, 'annoying kids'). "Anyway, that is the main rule, but please note that only your _escort_ needs to be a member of another house – during the Ball, you may converse, dance and entertain yourself with whoever you like. This is being done in the hopes of encouraging house unity," the muttering started again, "and showing all those involved that it _is_ possible to enjoy oneself with someone one might never have thought one would have liked before."

Harry blinked. Well.

At least Hermione _looked_ like she meant what she was saying.

Harry randomly had an image of himself dancing with Snape (the greasy bastard), and shivered with disgust. Snape then turned into Malfoy, who Harry was surprised to find did not evoke as much disgust in him as Snape had. Well, Snape was a teacher, Harry told himself. That would have been just _wrong_.

Also, he wasn't gay, Harry remembered, blinking. Funny how that was the last thing he realised.

"I am convinced that this is a good idea, and that all members of the school that attend the Balls will enjoy themselves," Hermione said firmly in conclusion, ignoring the grumbling from the Slytherin table. "Oh!" she suddenly remembered, looking over at the Teachers Table, "and thank you for making me Head Girl."

There was a smatter of laughter around the Great Hall, and Hermione blushed, and looked at Dumbledore, smiling nervously. The Headmaster stood up, and nodded at Hermione.

"Thank you, Ms Granger. Please, take a seat at your table." Dumbledore smiled.

Nodding, Hermione nervously walked to her place between Harry and Ron at the Gryffindor table, and sat down, blushing due to the hundreds of pairs of eyes that were still fixed on her.

"May I remind everyone – as I do each year – that the Forbidden Forest is out of bounds to all students, especially during these dark and dangerous times," Dumbledore said gravely. The mood in the Great Hall seemed to darken with his words. "May I also remind everyone that all items from Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes are banned from the corridors of Hogwarts, on order of our caretaker, Mister Filch. Especially, as I quote him, 'those darn mushy love potions'," Dumbledore smiled, and the mood in the Great Hall lifted again, as quite a few girls (especially those in younger years, Harry noticed) giggled shrilly.

After a few more general notices and such, Dumbledore concluded his speech:

"And now, members of the school, I have a couple of words of great wisdom that I should like to share with you: _Bonne appetite!_" Dumbledore clapped his hands, and suddenly, the tables were full of the delicious food Harry had usually come to expect from the House Elves below the Great Hall.

Said Great Hall roared with applause (and not just the Hall; the people in it, too). Harry found himself clapping more vigorously than ever, considering this was the last Welcome-Back speech he would hear from Dumbledore at the start of the school year.

When the applause was over, Ron immediately piled his plate with a massive helping of potatoes, roast chicken, sausages and mash, while Hermione looked on in vague disgust. Harry soon followed Ron's lead (although with less food than the redhead).

Food was delicious, although conversation was less so. Everyone seemed so interested in what everyone else wanted to do when they finished school, and frankly, Harry did _not_ want to even _think_ about it, let alone talk about it.

"What do you think Draco Malfoy's gonna do when we finish Hogwarts?" Lavender asked thoughtfully.

Harry's ears perked (of their own accord, I assure you), and he tuned into the conversation.

Ron snorted in reply to Lavender's question.

"Become a Death Eater, of course!" he said as though it were obvious.

"If 'e's not one already, that is," Seamus added darkly.

Harry frowned. He knew that it was probably true – Malfoy was, or would be, a Death Eater – but for some reason, he found it kind of hard to imagine Malfoy serving Voldemort. Malfoy just didn't seem the type of guy to be someone else's _puppet_, despite all the 'my father' shit he had going on. The guy had one hell of an attitude, one hell of a superiority complex, and Harry just could _not_ imagine a guy like that demeaning himself and taking himself down to his father's level by kissing the hems of Voldemort's robes.

Then again, Harry didn't humour himself with thinking that he knew what went on in Malfoy's twisted mind. He reckoned he'd die from the shock of what he found there, especially the mental images Malfoy probably conjured up whilst looking at everything with two legs and reproductive parts.

"Don't be ridiculous, Seamus, Voldemort wouldn't be recruiting seventeen-year-old boys as Death Eaters," Hermione sniped.

"Yeah, he'd wait a month or two until they were eighteen," Dean said, but smiled at Hermione to show that he was kidding about. The group of seventh year Gryffindors laughed at that, and Harry felt a bit lighter at the thought that at least Malfoy wouldn't have to become a Death Eater until after April.

Harry briefly wondered how he knew Malfoy's birthday was after April, but decided that he had probably heard one of the Slytherins mention it at some point. Harry then wondered why he had bothered to remember that piece of information, but soon forgot when the topic of conversation changed from when-is-Malfoy-becoming-a-Death-Eater to football-no-Quidditch-is-better (with Seamus and Dean mostly taking part).

Food at the Gryffindor table was quickly polished off, with an abundance of deserts of all kind following.

After finishing dinner, the Gryffindors (but not Hermione) all filed off to bed. Hermione told Harry and Ron that she would return later, once she'd finished making sure the first and second years had got back to the dormitories safely.

The Gryffindor seventh year boys had proceeded to their dormitory, and after a few sleepy 'g'night's mumbled to each other (and a loud snore from Ron's bed, where he had fallen asleep the instant he had got there), they had all closed their four posters, and gone to sleep.

Well, all but Harry, who had decided to stay up a bit before he went to sleep, just thinking.

He wondered if Hermione had got back to the dormitories yet. She probably had, he decided.

Hermione had declined having her own private Head Girl dormitory (a fact that Ron had been rather miffed about, Harry remembered, smirking) because, in her words, 'the Common Room means too much to me. As do the people in it,' (she had assured Ron) 'and anyway, I think it's a lot safer for a student to be around lots of different people, rather than on one's own'. Ron had agreed, as had Harry.

Malfoy, on the other hand, had chosen to have his own Head Boy dormitory, Harry had learned from Hermione. He probably wants to fuck people without being overheard, the Gryffindor thought bitterly. He probably fucks everyone's boyfriends and girlfriends behind their backs.

A sudden thought hit him, and he blanched slightly. What if Malfoy was doing Ginny?

Not that Ginny would cheat on him, hell no, and most certainly not with Malfoy. And it wasn't that he didn't trust his girlfriend, but … he wasn't blind. He could see that Malfoy was good looking. And Harry wasn't exactly overly keen to, uh, satisfy Ginny's needs …

Merlin, one year together, and all they'd done is kiss.

Yes, the 'Great Harry Potter' was a tiny bit frigid. Malfoy would laugh so hard if he knew. In fact, he would probably tease Harry mercilessly, maybe make a banner or something. And in fact, Harry wouldn't blame him. The Boy Who Lived is seventeen and hasn't done anything more than kiss? Get out of here!

Harry sometimes wondered if there was something wrong with him. Why _hadn't _he done anything more with Ginny? It's not that he didn't _want_ to … at times. It was just … just …

Well, there was Ron. Yeah, that was it. Ron. Harry was worried about doing anything other than kissing with his best friend's little sister in case he got the shit beaten out of him, which Ron might only _possibly_ do, if Harry did anything more with his sister.

Harry was also rather embarrassed. He also didn't know why. The thought of him and Ginny doing something sexual was just … Merlin, he didn't know. It was way too weird to think of. Ginny had tried to coerce Harry into things like that a few times (OK, slightly more than a few times, more like every other day, but whatever), including the one time she had practically attacked Harry after Quidditch practise, _half-naked_, and had yanked down his boxers and attempted to grab his dick.

Harry had, embarrassingly, been way too freaked out to even get an erection over seeing his attractive girlfriend half-naked.

Ginny had been rather pissed off.

Harry hadn't quite understood what was wrong …

That is, until a week later, when Ginny had demanded to know why Harry hadn't tried to have sex with her. Harry had just blinked dumbly and said, 'Uhh … I dunno', which had led to Ginny throwing a complete hysterical fit, sobbing all over him about why, Merlin _why?_, was she not good enough, were her boobs not big enough, was she not sexy enough? Etc, etc … Harry thought gloomily.

He remembered that he had been extraordinarily embarrassed and had said, "Ginny, what are you talking about? You're great-" Ginny had cried harder, "um, I mean, you're _amazing_, and your boobs are, um, really nice-" the screeched sobbing was still resounding in his ears, "perfect! They're perfect! And you're … you're … you're just … really sexy, Ginny," Harry had finished lamely, blushing for England.

Ginny seemed to calm down quite quickly after that, and had then attempted to get Harry to go down on her. Harry had pretended he didn't know what she wanted, which had led to her storming off and not talking to him for a few days (which, Harry was mildly surprised to remember, he hadn't actually minded much).

Come to think of it, Harry and Ginny had had quite a few arguments over their sexual activity (or lack thereof).

Harry stifled a groan. His girlfriend had a higher libido than _he_ did! Dammit, what the heck was wrong with him? He was seventeen years old, he had a really pretty, sexual girlfriend, _and_ he was the Boy Who Lived … fuck, he _really_ needed to get laid.

Harry drifted off to a somewhat restless sleep, his last conscious thought being, _I bet Malfoy can get laid whenever he wants._


End file.
